


Second Chance For Him - OLD VERSION

by robotichawk



Series: Solona Amell's Adventures [20]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Lyrium Addiction, Lyrium Withdrawal, M/M, Multi, Psychological Torture, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 12:57:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 34
Words: 111,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12132984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotichawk/pseuds/robotichawk
Summary: Jane Trevelyan, a whiny, spoiled noble to her core, receives the Mark. With the world doomed, now First Warden Solona Amell, Hero of Ferelden comes back to the Thedas to save the world once again.And with her, is a man that thought everything was buried in the past.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Original Version. Here is the [link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4163601/chapters/27441195) for the remastered Second Chance for Him story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Version. Here is the [link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4163601/chapters/27441195) for the remastered Second Chance for Him story.

It was raining demons. Cullen thought he had seen it all. He had lived through a mage rebellion. A Blight. A qunari invasion. Kirkwall. Even the mad Knight-Commander Meredith. But a hole in the sky that spit out demons? That was taking things way too far. Cullen cursed. Just what was it with him and dangerous, life-threatening events? His sword parried a blow from a shade, then sunk deep into its hide. His shield was held up, protecting him from the hot flames a rage demon was spewing at him. No matter how many demons he killed, more stepped up to fill their spots.

Cullen blocked, parried, stabbed, and sliced, his trained muscles no longer requiring conscious thought in battles. Everything was instinctive, all a blur as he threw himself deeper into the bloody battle. Suddenly, there were no demons to kill in sight. A brief respite, as the last of the demons withdrew to prepare for another wave. Cullen took a breath, his eyes scanning the battlefield. He was the Commander of the forces, and he had to lead his men properly, save as many lives as possible in this waking nightmare.

“Lieutenant, get the injured off the field and to safety. Anybody who has been fighting for over three hours is to step back as well. Go eat, rest, and come back. Those who are returning, take their place! The next wave is coming soon. Move!” Cullen barked out the order quickly. Maker, how long has it been since I’ve slept? Since I’ve eaten? How long has it been since the Conclave exploded? Cullen didn’t know. He was running purely on adrenaline. His body would pay the price for overexertion later. For now, he was needed here. Cullen felt the Veil writhe, and called out. “Here comes the next wave! Men, form up!”

Then Cullen was back to fighting demons. Rage, despair, fear, and shades poured out into the world from the rift. Thank the Maker there were no desire demons running about. Cullen wasn’t sure if he would have been able to keep his head about him with those creatures around. Then again, it was very unlikely people were desiring something other than rest at the moment. Demons reflected the state his men were in, and from the number of fear demons Cullen saw, he knew they were in trouble. Then, a revenant popped out, and drove all thoughts away from his mind.

Death was a certainty. His weary arms were slow, barely parrying the blows on time. His shoulders felt heavy from the blows he had taken with his shield. His feet were sluggish. He barely had the energy to keep his eyes open. And yet Cullen fought on. He would not run when there were demons to be killed. But the rift held endless supply of those horrid creatures, and he was but a mortal. He felt a fear demon’s claw glancing off his armor. Cullen knew he wouldn’t last long. Death was coming for him.

He felt the power pulling at the threads of the Fade, before he saw her. As he stepped on a shade to pull his sword free, he saw the Seeker moving besides him. She was a welcome sight, her battle prowess bolstering the men’s spirit. And then the rift in the Fade shuddered, strained, and then snapped shut. Maker’s breath, it was over. The rift was gone. Cullen limped back to Cassandra. “Seeker, you’ve found a way to seal the rifts!” Cullen hoped. I mean, this rift was gone, wasn’t it?

Cassandra nodded at him, her expression worried. Cullen briefly wondered how tired he must look. How many hours has it been since he started fighting? How many days? “It seems that the prisoner has the ability to seal the rifts.” Cassandra informed him. His eyes promptly moved to a small, slender woman standing beside the Seeker.

She was perhaps in her mid-thirties. Her hair was bright red, tangled up dreadfully. She was covered in filth, like the rest of them, but underneath the gore Cullen could see she was wearing expensive Enchanter robes. Her eyes were wide with fear, dark green-brown pupils peered at him. She was attractive. She didn’t seem like a person capable of blowing up the Conclave. In fact, from the way he felt her pull at the Veil, she wasn’t even that competent of a mage. Cullen shook his head. The Breach was the priority. If the mage could seal it, they would have time for questions later. Confirming with Cassandra that she would lead the mage to the Breach in an attempt to close it, Cullen pulled his men back from the field they had been fighting on. With the rift closed, they finally had a chance to take a proper rest. Cullen barked out orders, moving to help an injured man walk off the field. I wonder when I will have the time to get some blasted sleep, he thought idly.

Cullen felt the strange tear in the sky shudder as sickly green light flashed up into it, arching for a long while before snapping away. His templar senses told him that Veil around the Breach was more stabilized at least, but to his worries, it still remained. He shook his head, as he laid the injured soldier down in front of a healer. Cullen needed to get back to Haven to talk with Leliana and Cassandra. Focusing on putting one foot in front of another, he slowly made his way back. It would be a long time before he managed to get any rest.

 

*******

 

“Commander? Commander!” The concerned voice finally snapped Cullen out of his daze. He found himself looking up into Leliana’s worried bright eyes. Cullen attempted a smile. It came out more as a grimace. “I’m sorry, Leliana. What were you saying?” He took a swig from the water skin. The cool liquid wet his parched lips and his burning throat. He drank greedily, few drops running down his chin onto his armor. It had been  _so long_.

“Commander, do you know how long you have been fighting for?” Leliana’s soft voice finally cut through the haze. He shook his head. “I thought so. You’ve been fighting for two days without rest, Commander. If you continue, you will drop dead from fatigue.” He blinked. Two days? No wonder his body felt so dreadful. “I was needed.” He said simply. What else was there to be said?

“I know. And Commander, you are still needed. We have men and women that needs to be organized. People that must pull back into Haven in orderly fashion. Forces that need to be readied yet again at Haven.” Cullen nodded, then moved to stand. He needed to be with his men, giving orders. Leliana put her hand on his shoulder, keeping him still. Maker, he was too weak to even protest against such small pressure.

“And if you were to die from fatigue, we would all be in heaps of trouble since no one here knows how to run an army other than you. So I suggest you go and rest, Commander.” Cullen opened his mouth, trying to tell her his work wasn’t done yet. A huge yawn interrupted him. Leliana’s face softened. “If anything urgent arises, I promise I will wake you. Now, go sleep Cullen. You need it. And you are more of use when you aren’t tripping over your own feet in exhaustion.” Reluctantly, Cullen nodded. He was going to go find a bedroll to fall into, he really was going to.

Cullen fell asleep right on the rock he was sitting on.

 

*******

 

He was shaken roughly awake all too soon. Cullen blinked to see a soldier, holding out a bit of dry bread for him. “Commander! Sister Leliana requests your presence.” He nodded, taking the bread and biting into it. “Where is she?”

“Down by the forward camp, ser. Chancellor Roderick was present as well.” Cullen reached for his water skin, only to realize it was gone. He searched around, but the soldier pushed a new one into his hand. “How long was I out for?” He drank. It felt wonderful.

“Just a few hours, Commander. Awaiting orders to pull back to the Haven, ser.” And the person to give that order would be me, he thought. “Thank you. Dismissed.” Cullen stood, feeling every inch of his body protesting against the movement, and made his way over to where Leliana and Cassandra waited for him.

 

*******

 

His tired brain struggled to keep up with the information being poured into him. The Breach was stabilized for now. The prisoner had passed out from her attempt at closing it. No demons were popping up for now, so they were to regroup at Haven. Why was this annoying, useless man here? They still didn’t know who their prisoner was. Solas thought she would eventually recover, and they could make another attempt to close the Breach. He sighed, and rubbed his temple. One battle at a time.

He swiftly organized for their forces to withdraw from the Temple. Leliana posted a few scouts to keep watch, but nobody wanted to remain at the Temple for any duration of time. Cullen grabbed a few more hours of sleep in his saddle during the ride to Haven. Then the never ending pile of work dug its claws into him once more. Reports of the injured and dead soldiers piled up on his desk. Cullen needed to get his men to the healers. Others needed a place to sleep. Soldiers needed new weapons after the battle. Requisition forms lined up endlessly. Then, he was dragged into the war room by Cassandra to discuss the second attempt at the Breach.

Maker’s breath, did they truly think pouring more magic into the Mark would help? It could possibly cause another explosion! Kill them all, rip another hole in the sky. They didn’t even know what the Mark was, or did, aside from the fact that it could close fade rifts.

“We could get templars to help us.” He argued. “The entire Order was founded to fight unstable and dangerous magic. Solas theorized that the Mark didn’t have enough power to close the Breach? Powering up the Mark needn’t be the only way. Templars could use their ability, suppress the Breach. It would allow it to be closed with no need for huge amount of power that we have no control over.”

The debate went on for hours, until they all agreed to one thing. Everyone needed a break, and they weren’t going to come to consensus that night. He left the chantry, and made his way over to the tent. I could keel over and die from exhaustion right now, he thought. Thankfully, he would be too exhausted to dream tonight. Setting the sword on his desk – Maker, those reports must breed like rabbits when left by themselves. The heap had tripled in size – Cullen pulled off his boots and gauntlets. His tired fingers clumsily unclasped his breastplate slowly, then put it aside. Cullen then gave up. Without bothering to disrobe any further, he dropped onto his cot and fell into deep slumber.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Version. Here is the [link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4163601/chapters/27441195) for the remastered Second Chance for Him story.

Cullen examined the map in front of him, as Josephine and Leliana chatted away in the background. They were all waiting for Cassandra to bring the Herald in to meet with them officially. As curious as Cullen was to meet her, he had more urgent matters to attend to. Such as the fact that the Inquisition had no _horses_. He knew he needed to find a way to rectify this situation immediately. Cullen’s eyes rested on the marker for Redcliffe farms as his mind worked through the problem. If only they could grab the horses from Dennet’s farm somehow. But the stubborn horse master had denied every requests he had sent so far.

The door banged open as Cassandra strode in. Cullen quickly straightened, focusing on the new addition to their Inquisition. His brief meeting with the Herald at the battlefield had been short. Cullen also had been too focused on keeping his men alive to properly see her. Now, he assessed the woman carefully.

She was easy on the eyes, as Cullen had noted before. Her short flaming hair was somewhat more settled now, tied up tightly. Her pupils were dark green, melting into brown. Her gaze was calculating as she swept the room. Cullen assumed she was intelligent. The way she carried herself practically shouted out noble, and usually one received higher education when they were born from noble blood. He also felt the unfamiliar pulse of her magic, weak and stuttering. She wasn’t a threat in that regard. But perhaps she was vulnerable to possession. Weak mages often turned to blood magic and demons under the temptation of power. Cullen tensed at the thought. What would happen to the world then?

As Cassandra made the introductions, he felt her eyes lingering on him. So she noticed that he was a templar. At least she didn’t seem to take offense at his existence like some others did. Then they finally learned the Herald’s name. Jane Trevelyan. Josephine was startled at that.

“You’re the Trevelyan’s youngest? Oh my, it seems that I must send word to your family at once, informing them of your survival.” Josephine hurriedly made notes. So he was correct. She was a noble born. Cullen sighed inwardly, sharing a look with Cassandra. He had no patience for nobles.

Taking control of the war meeting before Josephine could distract them with more noble things he didn’t understand, he quickly argued again that the Inquisition should reach out to the Templars for help. Josephine and Leliana again disagreed with him, calling the idea a pure speculation. But wasn’t the idea of powering up the Mark a speculation as well? When they finally agreed on sending the Herald to the Hinterlands to meet with Mother Giselle, the Herald seemed alarmed.

“You want me to go out there? To Hinterlands? Weren’t you all just talking about how dangerous the area was due to the war between the mages and templars?”

“Yes, but Mother Giselle had asked to see the Herald of Andraste, which is the title that has happened to fall to you.” Leliana pointed out. “And Mother Giselle won’t leave the crossroads while there are refugees there that are in dire need of her help. And it is not within the Inquisition’s place to force the Mother to abandon those refugees. Therefore, you must go.”

“But I could get injured! What if I get caught in between the fighting? Those templars could try to kill me!” Cullen could see that she was working herself into panic. He tried to comfort her. “You will have the protection you need against those that are fighting this mad war. Cassandra will go with you, and as you know she was the Right Hand of the late Divine Justinia. You will also be accompanied by Solas, who is a powerful mage and Varric. The dwarf’s had his own fair share of trouble, and knows his way around battles. You are in good hands.”

The Herald didn’t seem satisfied, but left the meeting with Cassandra with no further argument. Cullen let out a quiet sigh of relief.

“She seems quite reluctant, does she not?” Leliana’s sharp voice drew his attention. Josephine was nodding in agreement. “True. And yet she seems pleased by her new title. Perhaps the rumors about her are genuine.” Cullen lifted his eyebrows at her, curious. Josephine continued.

“The youngest Trevelyan, Jane, is said to be the spoiled princess of the Free Marches. Despite her manifestation as a mage in her early childhood, her family’s strong ties with the chantry had kept her well connected to her noble family and thus, social political power. They say that she is used to getting her ways, and that she cares not for those she hurts in the Game. She is every bit as cunning as the major players in Orlais, according to some of the rumors.” Leliana seemed thoughtful as she soaked in this new information.

“Or perhaps, as a mage who has spent the majority of her life in a Circle, the prospect of going into a war ridden area is simply terrifying. We should give her the benefit of doubt, without judging her based on these rumors. She is from the Ostwick Circle, is she not? Ostwick was one of the Circles to disband peacefully. I doubt she has seen a fight ever, let alone a war. We can form our own opinions on her with time.” Cullen suggested. There was a time once when he had condemned the mages for no more reason than their magic. He knew it was prejudice such as that which had led to the disaster at Kirkwall. He swore he would not do so again, and he meant to try.

 

*******

 

Cassandra stormed into his tent, making the reports flutter on his desk. Cullen looked up, appalled at her wild behavior. “The Herald is a menace!” She growled out, barely short of shouting. Cullen waited, sensing that she was only just beginning. “She is spoiled! She is a brat. And she is the most selfish being I have ever met!” Cassandra began pacing in the tight confines of his tent. “She insulted Solas and Varric nearly the moment they started speaking. That woman called Solas a knife-ear to his face! She expected him to serve her every whim. And she told Varric she didn’t want to hear one word out of his mouth that wasn’t ‘Yes, milady’ because his opinions did not matter!” Cullen watched as the words poured out of Cassandra. She was very agitated, and he didn’t want to do anything that might earn the woman’s ire in her current state.

“That wasn’t all. She was respectful enough to Mother Giselle. I suspect that has to do with her family’s strong chantry ties. But she couldn’t be bothered to grab food or blankets for the refugees! Said it was beneath her station. Solas practically had to drag her to Recruit Whittle to talk about the rebel mages’ caches. Apparently a soldier was too low born to address her directly!” Cassandra fumed. “In battle she is completely useless. She hides behind Solas, expecting him to cast barriers over her. She doesn’t try to improve. She just cowers behind whatever that might protect her. Varric was knocked out twice trying to get her out of the harms’ way.” Cassandra finally stopped pacing, and settled on just glowering. Cullen slowly stood.

“Are you done?” He asked warily. The Seeker glared at him, but nodded. “Knowing you, I assume you did not remain silent about these behaviors. How did she respond?” Cullen grimaced, as Cassandra pounded her fist into his desk, scattering his reports further.

“She completely disregarded them! She said that since I was the Right Hand of Divine Justinia, she would take my words under consideration regarding her behavior towards helping the refugees. But she flat out refused to apologize to Solas and Varric. Said that the nonhumans deserved no better than the way she treated them.”

Cullen started to reorganize the reports. Cassandra continued. “That woman does not have the same goals as us. Every time we found a fade rift, she wanted to see if there was a way to gain favors from the locals for closing the demon spewing thing. She complains to days on end of the pain the closing a rift causes her. Solas had already examined her Mark, and says that the pain is only temporary due to the foreign magic that’s been etched onto her. It has not lessened her complaints.”

Cullen trusted Cassandra. They were very alike, the two of them. Both warriors, steady and focused. Driven by duty and faith. Cullen believed in Cassandra to relieve him of duty if he was no longer able to perform. And he believed her judge of character.

Which worried him greatly. If the Herald was even half as bad as Cassandra made her out to be, they were in deep trouble.

“At least you have accomplished all the goals we have set. You have even managed to gain the mounts for the Inquisition. It’s lifted a load from me. She must have at least some degree of competence.” Cullen tried to reason. Cassandra only snorted.

“The blighted woman did nothing. You have Varric to thank for those refugees no longer freezing to death at the crossroads. He somehow spun the story so that the Herald would think helping the refugees would make her look more holy, so she would gain more political power. Solas managed to convince Master Dennet to help the Inquisition, with reason and favors. And something about harts.” Cassandra shook her head. “I know she isn’t being a horrible person. In fact, she is acting just as a noble woman would. But with the state the world is in, I believe we may be doomed with the Mark on her hand.”

With that note, Cassandra strode out of his tent. Presumably to splinter a practice dummy to pieces with her sword. Having finished gathering the reports, Cullen sat back down at his desk and sighed. Andraste guide them all out of this nightmare ahead.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Version. Here is the [link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4163601/chapters/27441195) for the remastered Second Chance for Him story.

"The templars must help us close the Breach. The Order was founded to fight magic!" Cullen stressed yet again. It seemed that Leliana and Josephine finally saw the risk of bringing the mages into the heart of Inquisition with demons everywhere.

"We must first convince the Lord Seeker to bring the templars out of exile." Leliana pointed out. She was always efficient. Cullen nodded. He didn't know what that blasted man hoped to achieve with this ill-timed exile.

"We've received word from a knight-recruit. They gather at Therinfal Redoubt." He looked over the map yet again. "It has been vacant for decades. Why go there?" Cassandra voiced his questions. He could only shrug.

"We must approach the Lord Seeker again to get anywhere; we can ask him then." Josephine stressed. She always tried to solve things in diplomatic ways.

"I will go." Cullen announced. They all looked at him, surprised. "I was a Knight-Commander of Kirkwall, as brief as that was. We can use that to our advantage. It would simply be a waste for me _not_ to go."

Leliana, nodded, her eyes sparkling. "Yes, the Commander of Inquisition, ex-Knight-Commander of the city of Chains with a retinue of ex-templars from Kirkwall at the Lord Seeker's doorstep? Accompanied by the Herald of Andraste? Even he would find it difficult to ignore that."

"Me?" The Herald seemed startled yet again. After she had returned from Hinterlands, it had grown increasingly difficult to send her out to the fields. Leliana sent him a frustrated look before turning to the woman.

"Rumors you were saved from the Fade by Andraste have grown legion among the templars." She started to explain. "We've done our part to encourage them." Josephine put in slyly. Cullen shook his head, amused.

"A Herald with a few companions may be dismissed. Easily set aside. That same Herald returning with one of the templar Order's most distinguished and youngest Knight-Commander and templars from Kirkwall will be reconsidered, as will the military power of the Inquisition." The Herald understood the political power play, and nodded.

"This could be why Andraste saved me. To lead her templars against the Breach." Cullen bit his lips in effort to hide his smile when Cassandra looked disgusted behind the woman. The Seeker clearly disagreed. "Perhaps also to convince the Lord Seeker to abandon the mania that has seized him." Josephine added. Inquisition needed her to go to the Therinfal Redoubt, and Josie was doing her best to make the lady amicable. Cassandra's frown deepened. Cullen couldn't help it.

"With respect, after his appearance in Val Royeaux, _hang_ what the Lord Seeker thinks." That man was a disgrace to the Order and vows they swore.

"We do not need the Lord Seeker. We need his templars, with or without his approval. The Breach will not wait for our differences to settle." Leliana agreed, and Cullen nodded. There must be some who still valued the vows they have taken. He could sway them to ally with Inquisition.

 

*******

 

The long ride to Therinfall Redoubt was _unbearable_. The Herald  somehow manage to complain about _everything_. To make the matters worse, Vivienne had joined their company, at the behest of the Herald. Cullen looked over to Cassandra, his teeth clenched tight as the noblewomen's voice drifted about them, complaining. Cassandra didn't look any happier than he was. "Is she always like this?" Cullen growled out quietly. Cassandra nodded. "She is actually behaving herself quite well. Seems having you with us is making her happy." Cullen grunted. Cassandra twisted in her saddle to look at Vivienne and the Herald.

"Since lady Vivienne decided to join us, the complaints have doubled." She grimaced. "But she seems happy that someone agrees to her opinions about the state of our Inquisition, and the travel accomodities." Cullen felt for the Seeker. If this was how traveling with the Herald was like, he didn't envy her.

The Herald rode up next to Cullen one afternoon. Inclining his head, he greeted her carefully. "My lady. Was there something you needed?" To his surprise, she nodded and asked about the templars. He hadn't known she was interested. She asked him of templar training and lives in the Circle, and he did his best to answer her questions thoroughly. They were working together after all.

Cullen didn't expect the conversation to turn into _that_ direction though. When she asked about the vows of celibacy, Cullen felt his ears redden. "Why...? Why would you..." He sounded like a stuttering recruit. He tried again. "That's not expected. Templars can marry - although there are rules around it, and the Order must grant permission. Some may choose to give up more to prove their devotion, but It's not required." Her next question nearly dropped him from his saddle.

"Have you?" Why would she ask _that_?

"Me? I... um... no. I've taken no such vows." Maker's breath, he needed to get away from her. "Excuse me, my lady. I must speak with Cassandra." He inclined his head and rode away from the woman with a flick of reigns. What in the Void's name had just happened?

 

*******

 

When they finally arrived at Therinfall Redoubt, Cullen soon saw a templar waiting for them. He dismounted, and strode up to the templar.

"I'm the one who sent word to you. You said the Inquisition works to close this Breach in the Veil." Cullen nodded. "You must be knight - templar Ser Delrin Barris then. May we skip the pleasantries?" Barris launched straight into situation report.

"This meeting with the famed Herald of Andraste has garnered interest from the Lord Seeker. Beyond sense. The sky burns with magic, but he ignores all calls to action until you and the Herald arrive.

The Seekers could lead the templars in an emergency, if there were no other recourse. But the Lord Seeker's goal should be to restore them to order. Something was very wrong here. Ser Barris continued.

"He has taken command. Permanently." Cassandra cut In. "If he feels there is a holy mandate..." She trailed off. It was within the Lord Seeker's right.

"That is what the Lord Seeker claims, and our commanders parrot him." Barris didn't look convinced. "The Lord Seeker's actions make no sense. He promised to restore the Order's honor, then marched us here to wait? Templars should know their duty, even when held from it." Cullen nodded grimly. He may have left the Order, but he would never let go of the vows he swore to protect the others.

"A templar who remembers his responsibilities? I am reassured." Vivienne's haughty voice rang out. Cullen couldn't tell if she was mocking them.

"Win over the Lord Seeker, and every able-bodied knight will help the Inquisition seal the Breach." Cullen decided it couldn't help to try. "If you think we're right, abandon the Lord Seeker and help us." Barris shook his head, "We can't abandon our orders. Not while the officers who survived the Conclave follow him. We've been asked to accept much, after that shameful display in Val Royeaux. Our truth changes on the hour." With that, Barris led their group into the keep.

 

*******

 

Cullen stood with his companions in the room. If they were to be ambushed, they were at a disadvantage. The archers could pick them off one by one from the higher floors. There wasn't much cover to protect them. As he mulled over the worst scenario, a templar entered wearing a familiar armor. A Knight-Captain. Barris seemed surprised. "Knight-Captain?"

"You were expecting the Lord Seeker. He sent me to die for you." Cullen's hand hovered over his pommel. This would not end well. "The Lord Seeker had a plan, but the Herald ruined it by arriving with purpose. It sowed too much dissent."

Cullen grabbed the Herald, and pulled her back. Barris challenged the templar. "Knight-Captain, I must know what's going on!"

"You were all supposed to be changed! Now we must purge the questioning knights!" Cullen looked around to see armed templars suddenly surrounding them. He unsheathed his own sword smoothly, his left hand grabbing his shield. "The Elder One is coming. No one will leave Therinfal who is not stained red!" The Knight-Captain raved. This was a disaster. "Men, shields up! Protect yourselves from the archers!" There was no hope of alliance now. Few fell who weren't quick enough to lift their shields. Barris looked horrified. "Knight-Captain! What have you done?"

Cullen no longer cared. Kicking out at the table in front of him to disrupt the Knight-Captain's balance, he shouted. "Cassandra! Protect the Herald! Vivienne, protect us from the archers as much as you can. Men, these are no longer our brothers and sisters! The Order has turned, so fight for your lives!" He jumped over the table, and bashed his shield into the Knight-Captain as he stood to move.

"Flank the templars! Do not get surrounded. Varric, get those damned archers out of the way!" He parried a blow and blocked yet another arrow with his shield. They were fighting templars. Vivienne's barriers were soon dispelled by cleansing. Cullen gritted his teeth as another of his men fell.

He moved forward, his steel ringing. His muscles knew what needed to be done. No more orders were going to help his men survive. The best he could do now was to make them focus on him, to draw the attention. Cullen taunted the red templars, spinning and slashing. Soon the floor began to run sleek with his enemies blood. Somewhere behind him, Cassandra was finishing off the stragglers he had disabled. Herald cowered by the barricaded door. Varric was covering her. Cullen severed one of the templar's arms off. He felt anger and disgust threatening to swallow him. Cullen was fighting the Order, his former brothers and sisters. He decapitated another, the anger fueling his blows. He had no choice.

Soon, there was no more red templars to kill, and Cullen assessed the room. The door was still barricaded. Most of his men were alive, but injured. Knight-Captain was on the floor unconscious.

"Men, heal yourselves with first aid kits. There will be lot more fighting before we make it out of here alive. Vivienne, heal as many of us as you can. You won't be effective as battle mage against an entire keep of templars." He watched her nod and move towards his men. Barris was suddenly by his side. "The Knight-Captain's keys. I would question the Lord Seeker about this 'Elder One'". He held out the key to Cullen. He took it, nodding grimly. Lord Seeker would answer for this. He turned to the Herald, to see her shaking like a leaf. "Can you assist Vivienne with healing?" He asked gently. She didn't seem to hear. Cassandra pulled him away. "Do not bother. She has no skills in healing arts." Noticing the gash on her arm, he handed her his bandage. She wrapped herself.

"This is a disaster. The doorway back out into the courtyard is blocked. We have no choice but to move forward into the keep full of these red templars." Cullen talked. Cassandra looked over at him "We need to find out what is going on here. Without the templars, we cannot close the Breach." Cullen didn't know what he was supposed to do. He sent a silent prayer up to the Maker, before looking at Cassandra. "We have no choice. We will have to fight through the keep to Lord Seeker, and sort out this mess." With that, Cullen moved to his surviving men to assist with the healing. Maker guide them safely out of this blasted keep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Version. Here is the [link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4163601/chapters/27441195) for the remastered Second Chance for Him story.

Cullen wanted to scream in frustration and anger as they fought their way through the keep. There seemed to be endless supply of red templars throwing themselves in mad rush towards his men. Cullen felt every blow, every cut he made against these poor sods. They were once his brothers and sisters.

He split one in half, shattering the red shards of lyrium everywhere. He felt as if there was a blade twisting in his gut. He let out a battlecry, half strangled as he choked on the disgust that grew within him. No matter how far the Order had fallen, the men and women Cullen was slaughtering were templars. His hands would forever be stained red with the blood of his brethren. The thought drove him into reckless rage.

To make the matters worse, he uncovered the plot to corrupt the templars from within. The officers had known the red lyrium was dangerous. Cullen tore the reports in half, his wrath spilling over.

The Inquisition force finally arrived at the top of the Therinfal Redoubt. Most of his men were battered, but had survived. Lord Seeker Lucius was waiting for them. Cullen felt his lips curl into a snarl, as he stomped up to the man. He would make the man _pay_ for the fall of the Order.

But nobody was expecting Lucius to lunge at the Herald "At last!" Only Cullen's close proximity had allowed for the brushing touch of his fingertips on the woman, which dragged Cullen in with the Herald into a strange world.

 

*******

 

Cullen blinked slowly, and assessed the area around them. They were no longer at Therinfal Redoubt. Which meant they were either dislocated, or this wasn't real. Cullen was willing to bet on the latter. He helped the Herald stand, and wasted precious time trying to calm her. Maker, Cassandra was right. This woman was nothing but a nuisance at this point.

Pulling the woman along behind him, Cullen searched the area. He was no mage, but Void take him if he was going to sit by and wait for someone to break this hallucinations. He doggedly ignored the demon taking the shape of other leaders of the Inquisition, of himself, and continued on. It was nothing compared to what he had endured at the Kinolch hold.

The Herald, on the other hand, screamed and cried as the demon in shape of Leliana slit the throat of image of himself. It kept the demon talking at least, he thought. By now Cullen had finally identified the type. An Envy demon. A rare kind of demon that not many even knew existed. Dragging the Herald along forcefully, Cullen barged on. They wouldn't survive if Envy decided it wasn't worth copying the Herald and to attack. Navigating through green fire-water, Cullen did his best to keep the Herald steady. He had no idea how they were going to get back to the others. Envy kept on showing the images of the dark future it wanted to make. Cullen sighed. What was it with demons and visions? At least they were informative this time.

Then, Cullen heard a voice. "You're hurting, helpless, hasty. What happens to the hammer when there are no more nails?" Something was here with them. Something that wasn't Envy. Envy promptly shouted at the mysterious voice to get out, confirming his suspicions. If it wasn't part of Envy's plan, Cullen could somehow get this voice to help him.

Pulling the Herald along, Cullen was about to go through a set of doors when the voice stopped him. "Wait." Unsheathing his sword, Cullen slowly scanned the room. Something was flickering around him. The voice kept on talking, ringing out against the walls, preventing him from pinpointing the source.

"Envy is hurting you. Mirrors on mirrors on memories. A face it can feel but not fake. I want to help. You, not Envy." Was this another part of Envy's traps? No, the voice felt too familiar.

"Who are you? I've seen you before, haven't I?" Cullen kept his shield hand on the Herald. He would trust nothing in this place. "I've been watching. I'm Cole. We're inside her. Or we are. She's always inside her." Cullen finally spotted It. A young man, in his twenties perhaps? Hanging upside down from the ceiling. Another demon. He lifted his sword.

"It's easy to hear, harder to be a part of what you're hearing. But I'm here, hearing, helping. I hope." The thing didn't seem to mind his sword. "Envy hurt her, is hurting her. I tried to help like you. Then I was here, in the hearing. It's - it's not usually like this." The thing wanted to help them? Cullen didn't know if it would be safe.

"The least I can ask is that things make sense in my own head!" Herald suddenly screeched. Cullen turned, worried, but the demon just chuckled. "It never works like that." How many times has that thing 'helped' exactly? Cullen pushed the wondering aside in his head. They couldn't linger here. He could hear Envy closing in on them.

"I was watching. I watch. Every templar knew when Inquisition arrived. They were impressed, but not like the Lord Seeker." Did that thing - Cole - read minds? "The 'Lord Seeker' is an envy demon. It wants to be her." Cullen pointed towards Herald. Cole confirmed it. "Yes. It twisted the commanders, forced their fury, their fight. They're red inside." So it was the envy demon's doing. Cullen seethed. The moment he got out, he would slice the demon to pieces.

"Anyway, you're frozen. Envy is trying to take her face. I heard it and reached out, and then in, and then I was here." Cullen assumed same thing had happened to him too. Which meant he and Cole needed to get back out into the world. "All of this is Envy: people, places, power. If you keep going, Envy stretches. It takes strength to make more."

And that means we can weaken the demon by moving, forcing it to create more space and people. Cullen nodded, a plan forming in his head. Envy could attack at any moment. Herald was of no help, and Cole seemed to be willing to help. "Cole, you said? I will take your help against the Envy demon. It seems I have no other options. Now let's get out of here together."

Sheathing his sword, Cullen moved with the Herald once again. He couldn't always see Cole, but could feel the boy flitting about around them. His voice was constantly with them, telling them how to move on from one area to the next. Whispering things such as think water, or think fire.

The harder Cullen pressed to move on, the more agitated the envy demon got. He felt a grim satisfaction as the demon screeched at Cole to get out. But it wasn't easy to go through this demon made space. He watched as his comrades were jailed, tortured, and killed. He heard the people talk of a demon army conquering Orlais. Cullen gripped his sword so tightly that his hand ached. It was all too familiar a situation. But he couldn't afford to break down now. Cullen needed to keep going, needed to keep this separate from the memories of Kinolch Hold. The sniffles coming from the Herald was at least proving useful as a distraction. Back then, he had been alone.

Fighting his way through the Therinfal Redoubt, _again_ , Cullen realized they were approaching the top of the keep yet again. Cole's encouragements bolstered his strength, realizing that this madness would be soon over. Running, pushing, forcing the envy demon, Cullen finally arrived at the door they had met the demon at. And then, he was back.

 

*******

 

Cullen shook his head, then stepped up to put himself between the Herald and the envy demon that broke through the door. Envy screeched and fled, throwing up a magical barrier to prevent them from following. Cullen wasn't about to let that deter him.

"The Lord Seeker!" Barris exclaimed. "No. An imposter." Cullen rubbed his neck. Maker, his entire body felt stiff. Barris looked at him. "That monster ensured we weren't prepared. I still don't know what we're up against." Cullen flexed, checking his body. He was still fit for battle. "An envy demon replaced the Lord Seeker." The templars needed to know. Cassandra looked stunned "Envy! Then the Lord Seeker..." Nobody finished her sentence.

Barris assessed the situation. "It used the red lyrium to corrupt the Order, didn't it? I knew that miserable stuff was risky! Our commanders... some used the red stuff first, to prove it was harmless. The knights would've been next. That demon turned our leaders so we couldn't question when this started!"

Cullen's anger boiled over. He needed to cut down that demon. "It's a clever liar. Bring your best to stop it." As angry as he was, Cullen knew he couldn't get to envy by himself. Barris looked thoughtful. "What is envy?"

Cullen answered. As an ex Knight-Commander, he knew more about the demons than many others. "A coward, brother. It studies, makes less mistakes. But most of all, it hides."

"We need our veterans. Our commanders have turned, but the lieutenants may still be fighting." Thank the Maker, that would give them much better chance. "We will find the lieutenants and the uncorrupted lyrium stores. You hold the hall until we return. Then, we will go get Envy." Barris nodded his assent, and Cullen gathered his men and left to find the templars.

 

*******

 

Cullen shattered yet another red lyrium templar to pieces with his shield. Cullen bottled up the emotions he was feeling, knowing that he needed to keep a clear head. Encouraging his battle rage, Cullen roughly pushed aside the disappointment and hopelessness that threatened to topple him. He pushed it down, suppressed it tight. Rolled it into a small ball that rattled around inside him. It would crack him later, but for now it was the best Cullen could do.

Cullen and Cassandra managed to find the blue lyrium. Cullen motioned for his men to grab it, unwilling to go anywhere near it. Even if he was certain his wrath would keep him taking the stuff at the moment, there was no reason to submit himself to such temptations. Then, they rescued three lieutenants fighting against giant red lyrium monsters. Each saluted to him, recognizing him as the Knight-Commander. Cullen didn't bother to correct them.

And since the Order being torn apart wasn't enough, they found the plot to assassinate Queen Celene of Orlais. Cullen didn't think he could take much more of this blighted day. Grabbing enough papers for the proof, he stomped toward the main hall to make their assault against the magic barriers.

 

*******

 

Cullen looked away as the templars took their lyrium. His wanting for the lyrium was nearly overpowering, but he managed to check himself purely through the rage he had been feeling since they entered the keep. He knew Cassandra was worrying about him, and saw her watching him closely. He shot her a look, too furious to reassure her fully, but she seemed to understand. They were kept busy trying to keep the red templars off Ser Barris. Finally, the barrier came down.

Letting all his bottled up rage explode out, Cullen rushed at envy. He felt Vivienne, Cassandra, and Varric covering his reckless charge. But the demon that was responsible for dismantling the Order was finally within his reach, and Cullen was unwilling and unable to keep the torrent of anger in himself anymore.

He stabbed and sliced, his practiced muscles dealing damage efficiently against the demon. All the blood that had been spilled that day, all the maddened cries of his corrupted brothers and sisters drove Cullen on. His sword moved with impossible speed. His shield stunned the demon expertly. Cullen was fighting for himself, for the Order, for his comrades. Nothing would make him fall before he saw this envy demon die.

Eventually, his sword found its way into the demon's heart. Screeching, the demon fell, writhing in agony as Cullen twisted the blade. And then, it was gone.

A beat later, Cullen would have fallen if not for Cassandra rushing to support him. His muscles quaked with fatigue and overuse. The close proximity to lyrium and the stress from seeing the corrupted Order had taken a severe toll on his body. Taking a deep breath, he stood and nodded thanks to Cassandra. Their work wasn't done yet. He was still needed. Straightening himself, Cullen strode back to the templars.

 

*******

 

Barris walked up to him and saluted. "The demon is dead. Andraste be praised: she shielded you from its touch." Cullen nodded. Barris continued. "We've numbers across Thedas, but we let this happen. Our officers either failed to see it or were complicit. The templars are ready to hear what the Inquisition needs of us."

Cullen nearly laughed at that. It seems that they were to gain the aid of templars after all. Steeling himself, he looked up to the sky. The Breach was all too visible.

"There was corruption here." His Commander voice carried loud and clear. Maker, he hoped he was doing the right thing. "But also I see valor, and honor in each of you who stood fast. Rise tall again. Help the Inquisition seal the Breach before it swallows us all." And I pray that my faith in the Order will not be misplaced. Again.

Barris spoke slowly. "You speak truths we should never have ignored. But the Order is leaderless, gutted by betrayal. We must rebuild it." Barris spoke loud and clear. "You were once one of us. You were once a Knight-Commander, the youngest and most capable the Order has ever known. Brothers and sisters! What say you to follow one of our most distinguished brother?" A cheer erupted from the gathered templars.

"You were once our brother. You left the Order, but you performed the duty that was no longer expected of you when we ignored the truth and allowed the Order to get corrupted by demons. Knight-Commander Cullen, the Templars will come. We will submit to your leadership, and follow you to the Black City if need be. There is no doubt in my mind that you will lead us to the duty the templars have been held from. I hope your stronghold is ready."

Did I just recruit all the remaining templars as a semi personal army? Or are they now part of Inquisition, since I am the Commander for them? He shook his head. Josephine will figure out the details later. "Don't worry. I think we're expecting company." He told Barris.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Version. Here is the [link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4163601/chapters/27441195) for the remastered Second Chance for Him story.

Back in Haven, Cullen's workload had doubled. Rising well before dawn, Cullen worked through countless reports and requisition forms, until he could no longer read with the piercing headache. Then he would go out to drill his men before Josephine dragged him into the chantry for countless meetings. He spent hours discussing the details of their alliance with templars with Josephine and few templar lieutenants who had arrived ahead of the main force. After days of arguing, they finally settled to that templars would be recruited into Inquisition, until further notice. Cullen simply did not have the time to rebuild the Order - even if he was willing to. Which he was not - his days serving the Order were long past. And of course, Josephine requested his help in negotiating with the dwarves for a steady supply of lyrium for the templars. After all, what would their lady ambassador know about how much lyrium templars needed? And on top of all that, the responsibility of finding necessary quarters for their new allies also fell straight into his lap.

Grabbing perhaps three hours of sleep a night - sprawled on his desk - Cullen bumbled his way through the week. Not quite fully awake, but he mused that it was better than waking half his men with his screams during the nights. His thin tent walls did nothing to muffle the sounds.

Then the Templars arrived. Cullen busied himself with organizing and preparing for their march to the Breach. Cullen didn't think he could have made it work without the lieutenants that came with the templars. He appreciated the men and women with former military experiences, and quickly delegated the recruit training off to them. Cullen relied heavily on Barris, trusting the templar after his competent display at the Therinfal Redoubt. Barris truly was a lifesaver, helping out however he could. He also kept on reminding Cullen to eat.

And then the Templars marched out to the Breach with the Herald to close it. For once, Cullen wasn't bombarded with messengers as the entire village held their breath and waited. Cullen knew he should go catch up on sleep while he could - but with nerves drawn so tight, he didn't think he could sleep.

He paced the training grounds, watching the Breach like a caged lion until Leliana finally dragged him into his tent, pointed to his cot and handed him a sleeping potion. Smiling ruefully at the woman, he accepted and drank. His eyes soon slid close, darkness engulfing him.

He woke when he felt the Veil twisting and shuddering. Grabbing his sword, Cullen rushed out of his tent, only to stop short. His eyes took in the sickly green magic arching up to the sky yet again. Focusing all his senses, Cullen felt the  Veil strain, rolling and trembling until it finally snapped. After the blinding light, the Breach was gone. Letting go, Cullen roared and hooted along with the rest of Inquisition as tremendous cheer shook the ground. Breach was sealed.

 

*******

 

"So Commander, did you leave anyone behind in Kirkwall? Someone special?" Cullen took a step back as the Herald tried to press herself into him. Maker's breath, I'd had too much to drink to handle this. "Not in Kirkwall" He mumbled, looking around desperately for help. Everyone was too busy either dancing, drinking, or singing to notice his plight. The Herald just smiled wilder. "Is that so?"

"Forgive me, Herald." He started. "Jane. Call me Jane." Cullen didn't really want to. "I possibly could not. Perhaps we can settle for lady Trevelyan?" She looked unhappy, but nodded. "My lady, I apologize but I must speak with Barris regarding his report of the march earlier today. Please enjoy the celebrations." He barely kept himself from bolting away. What did she want from him?

Finding Barris and Rylen sitting together with other lieutenants, Cullen moved to join them. Rylen laughed as he pushed a mug full of ale into Cullen's hand. Grinning, Cullen downed it and gestured for one more. His men laughed and cheered as Cullen finished another mug Barris gave him. Barris handed him another.

"Good to see you relaxing for once, Commander. We weren't sure if you knew how ser." Cullen snorted, and drank as Rylen teased him. It was filled whiskey this time. "I am Ferelden. We know how to celebrate the best." Throwing his second - in - command a look, Cullen raised his mug and called out a challenge to his men. "I can outdrink you ugly lot any day! Yes, even you Mira."

"Oh, I'm willing to prove you wrong, ser!" Mira stared at him haughtily. Laughing, Cullen saw money pass hands among other lieutenants as he raised his mug to his lips. "We shall see, won't we?"

Then the alarm bells rang. Cullen froze, as the sound rang through Haven. They were under attack. Cursing, Cullen stood and rushed over to the gates. He was already in his armor - he was always in armor - sword strapped to his side. He saw a soldier running up to meet him.

"Commander! An army is marching this way! You can see the bulk of it over the mountains, ser! They fly no banner." He scanned the mountains. True enough, he could see the night sky lit up by countless torches. They numbered thousands.

"Cullen?" He turned as Cassandra rushed up to him. Leliana and Josephine was close behind. "One watchguard reporting. It's a massive force, the bulk over the mountain. Flying no banner." Then the gate banged open. Cullen unsheathed his sword to find a mage panting at the gate. A trail of corpses were visible behind him. The strange man stumbled, and Cullen rushed to catch him before he fell.

"Apologies. Mite exhausted. Nearly killed myself coming ahead of the army trying to kill you all. Despite all, it seems I'm fashionably late I'm afraid. Name's Dorian Pavus. The Elder One comes for your Herald. You can see the monster over the hill over there. His army is mainly composed of mages, lead by that woman Calpernia standing next to him." Dorian pointed, and his eyes followed.

What, exactly, was _that_? It was as thin as a skeleton was. And as tall as it was thin. With red lyrium growing out of it. It reeked of evil. Then Varric was next to him, and Cullen heard his muttered curse.

"Well, shit. That's Corypheus! But that's not possible." Cullen turned on the dwarf. "Give me everything you know, now." He snarled. He was about to fight a battle with absolutely no information on their enemy.

"I don't know a lot!" Varric brought his hands up, defending himself. "All I know is that he's some sort of darkspawn magister that doesn't know he's a darkspawn. Wardens had him sealed in some underground cage. That's all I know. Really!" It wasn't enough, but it would have to do.

"Haven is no fortress. If we are to withstand this monster, we must control the battle. Josephine! Gather the people into the chantry. We can't protect them when they start coming over the fences. Cassandra, go out there, and hit them with everything we got. Get those trebuchets firing. Leliana, protect the Herald. Move!" Cullen turned as Cassandra led few soldiers and the inner circle members out to trebuchets.

"Men! You have sanction to engage them! This will not be easy! Inquisition! For your lives! For all of us!" Cullen stirred his men up. If they were to survive, they needed to be at their best. Roaring, his men ran forward to protect the trebuchets. It was going to be a bloody fight.

Cullen Smote a mage trying to throw a fireball at him, and ran him through with his sword. Fighting mages were all too familiar for him. After dispatching yet another mage, Cullen looked up to see a trebuchet firing. It hit the mountain, causing a landslide that buried some of the army. He smiled grimly. Cassandra was a force to be reckoned with.

Then a dreadful screech filled the sky, and Cullen looked up to see an archdemon swooping low to destroy the trebuchet. Andraste guide them, they weren't going to survive that monster.

"Retreat! Men, retreat back into the chantry!" Cullen roared, his loud voice barely audible over the battlefield. As soon as Cassandra and Varric ran through, he slammed the gates shut. "Get everyone back into the chantry. It's the only building that might stand against that... beast!" He ordered, then went with Cassandra to save as many villagers as he could. Reviving the people that were trapped inside burning and collapsing buildings, he swept the entire village before running into the chantry.

Leliana, Josephine, and Herald were waiting for them. He wasted no time. "Our position is not good. The dragon stole back any time we might have earned with the trebuchets. There has been no communication, no demands. Only advance after advance."

"Elder One takes what he wants. From what I gathered in Redcliffe, it marched all of this way to take your Herald." Dorian was there. Cullen shook his head. "We are overrun. This is not survivable _now_. The only choice left is how spitefully we end this. We can turn the last remaining trebuchet over to the mountains above us and bury Haven along with the enemy."

Nobody said a word. Herald whimpered. They knew he would never suggest it if there was another way. But Dorian didn't know him, and he protested vehemently. The man was wasting his time. As Cullen tried to shove him out of the way, Roderick's voice stopped him cold.

"There's a path. The people can escape."

If there's a path, people could escape up the mountain. Somebody would have to act as bait. Buy them time. Then they could turn the trebuchet and bury the army. Inquisition could survive this. The best bait would be the Herald. The monster had come for her. Cullen looked over to her, and saw her eyes glimmering with fear and hope at Roderick's voice. "Chancellor, if you know the path, lead me away now." She pleaded.

The Herald was going to be of no help. Sighing, Cullen turned to his men. "I need volunteers to arm the trebuchet, and to fire it once the Inquisition is above the treeline." It was a suicide mission. Every hand went up.

Biting the inside of his mouth until it bled, Cullen selected the men to complete the job. He didn't choose his best. Cullen chose the ones he could afford to lose. His left hand was clenched in a fist so tight it hurt.

After he chose thirty people, Rylen came up to him. "You need someone capable to lead them. I will go." Cullen looked at him, wishing he could go instead. But he was needed here. "Come back alive, Rylen. That is an order. Whatever the cost." Cullen felt sick to his stomach. Rylen saluted and left.

"Inquisition! Follow Chancellor Roderick through the chantry! Move!" Cullen shouted. He need to stay strong for the people.

 

*******

 

"Solas, send up a signal." Cullen ordered when they were finally high enough above Haven. The elf sent up a large flare. Maker, was anybody still alive down there? Cullen held his breath, until the trebuchet fired. His men had come through. Cullen did not look away as the landslide buried Haven. Their blood was on his hands. He tried to control his body, as it began to shake. He couldn't break now. Not here, not now. He would not let their sacrifice go to waste. As the last of the landslide settled, Cullen walked to the front of the Inquisition, and led them deeper into the mountains. He would stay strong for the people that needed him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Version. Here is the [link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4163601/chapters/27441195) for the remastered Second Chance for Him story.

Cullen stomped down on his desire to throttle the Herald, doing his best to keep his temper in check. Maker’s breath, did that woman ever shut it? She’s been complaining incessantly for the entire march. He knew she was cold – everyone was cold – and had told her there was nothing more they could do. That did not stop her from bothering him. He had so much work to do – keeping head count, sending scouts out for road ahead, sending soldiers out to hunt for food – and yet she kept insisting on marching next to him, complaining and demanding his attention. His only respite was when Cassandra took pity and drew the Herald away from him.

He was already busy trying to keep the Inquisition alive. Since neither Leliana nor Josephine knew a thing about running an army, Cullen had no choice but to take control and lead them through the mountains. The pressing weight of the lives dependent on him was familiar, if not welcome – and encouraged his headaches to grow into full blown piercing pain between his eyes. The Herald’s voice worsened his headaches considerably. Every time she spoke to complain of lack of proper travel amenities, it felt as if her voice was grinding bits of his mind away. That was the state Cullen was in when he finally climbed over the hill and saw Skyhold that Solas had led them to.

It took his breath away. Standing tall and proud, the keep was a magnificent fortress. The rubble and ruined roofs spoke of its old age, but he could see the solid foundation of the building. Skyhold held the promise of mighty force the Inquisition could grow into. How could such a place have been lost to the ages?

Seeing the building lifted the Inquisition’s spirit. Walking a little faster than before, they marched into Skyhold before the day was over.

The moment he set foot in the new place, Cullen dove straight into even more work. He ordered Barris to oversee the work of assigning temporary quarters for all members of Inquisition. It would have made more sense to assign the job to Rylen, but the Knight-Captain was still recovering from his grave wounds from Haven. They weren’t going to be able to stay in the building – they were in dire need of repairs. Setting up a temporary table in the courtyard (a large wooden board over a crate), Cullen was soon buried under reports and messengers. He needed to send his best out to see what was around the Skyhold area, and their reports continued to pour in. His soldiers were also scouting out the keep, finding suitable places for armory, training fields and such. They also sent him reports of the area that needed repairs. Finding few workers among the villagers, Cullen set majority of his soldiers the task of repairing Skyhold. Templars who weren’t out scouting were assigned to guard duty. If Corypheus decided to follow them to Skyhold, they would be ready.

After a few days of continuous work, Leliana and Josephine finally settled into their respective offices, and started to help him straighten out Inquisition. Josephine sent for help to dwarven builders, and Leliana picked up the scouting duty, allowing Cullen to finally grab a few hours of blasted sleep he’d foregone for days.

A messenger woke him a few hours later, earning a heated glare from him. The poor man flinched before he muttered out that his presence was requested by Leliana and Josephine at the courtyard and bolted. Grunting, Cullen made his way slowly to the others waiting for him. Maker, he was so tired. When he got to the courtyard, three pairs of eyes turned to look at him, all concerned. He must look absolutely dreadful. Cassandra was first to speak.

“Commander! Have you gotten any rest since Haven? I have seen dead men with better colors than you right now.”

Wordlessly, Cullen shook his head. They all already knew he was too busy. “What did you need me for?”

Josephine coughed. “Lady Herald has… requested that she be appointed as the Inquisitor.”

“No.” Cullen and Cassandra hissed out at the same time. Leliana started “She has said…”

“NO.” Cullen raised his voice. How could they possibly even entertain the idea? The Herald was the prime example of who _not_ to appoint as leader. She had no capabilities of any kind. Except for being an annoying thorn in his side. Josephine tried again. “Having the Herald be the Inquisitor would be beneficial for the Inquisition’s image, Commander. None of us wish to be the Inquisitor, and we cannot find any suitable person to fill the position. Having the very woman delivered by Andraste herself as our leader would bolster the people’s spirit and allow us to take stronger political stand. She definitely looks the part.”

“Lady Ambassador, political maneuverings put aside, that woman is completely, undeniably incompetent. Having her as our leader would be the downfall of the Inquisition. We possibly could not hope to win against Corypheus with her leading us.” Cullen growled out.

“She will be a figurehead for the Inquisition, Commander. We will continue to discuss and come to consensus before making decisions.” Cullen was already shaking his head. “We need a leader, who can make a decision when we cannot come to consensus. As a group, we can react to a situation, do damage control. But we need a proper Inquisitor that can make the right decisions that can take our advice under consideration and analyze the situation to lead the Inquisition against Corypheus.”

“Commander, we have no other choice. If you have candidate ready, please by all means point us to them. But with no one competent, the next best would be the Herald who would give us the political advantage no other current Inquisition agent can.” Lady Ambassador always had her ways with words.

“I will concede the point that we have no one up for the job. I will not revolt if the two of you decide to appoint Herald as the Inquisitor. But I will not quietly abide by it either. I do not support her, and I will not be present for her appointment.” He cut off Josephine’s protest with a glower “I will not be present.” Repeating himself, he willed the ambassador to back off. Cullen had seen the result of incompetent leadership in Kirkwall. He was never going to support another leader blindly. And the Herald was even worse than Knight-Commander Meredith ever was.

“I agree with the Commander. I understand it will make the people happy, but my conscious does not allow me to support her as the Inquisitor. I will not be present for her coronation as well.” Cassandra spoke, and Josephine looked crestfallen. Even Cullen knew the meaning of two out of four leaders of Inquisition missing at the coronation of Inquisition. “If that is all, I have thousand things to do.” With a nod, Cullen walked off.

 

*******

 

“Cullen.”

He looked up from his desk to see just who it was that had the stones to call his name so casually.

“Hawke?! What in the Void’s name are you doing here?” Sure enough, it was Hawke. He looked the same since their time together in Kirkwall.

“Varric sent word. Said Corypheus was alive and kicking around. Kicking Inquisition around, to be exact. I came to help, considering I killed him before.” Cullen’s mouth fell open in shock.

“You’ve _killed Corypheus before?_ ” Hawke smirked at him. The damned mage hasn’t lost his sense of humor.

“Can we go someplace more private? Nobody aside from Varric knows I’m here, and I’d like to keep it that way.” Nodding wordlessly, Cullen motioned him to follow. He felt tug of magic as Garret wrapped himself in a cloaking spell. Checking to see that the mage was hidden fully, he moved to find Rylen. The Knight-Captain was mostly recovered from his wounds now.

“Rylen! Something urgent came up I have to take care of. You’re in charge until I return.” Seeing the Knight-Captain saluting in answer, Cullen made his way to the underground library that nobody visited.

 

*******

 

“Miserable place, this. There’s cobwebs everywhere.” Cullen ignored Hawke’s flippant comment, as he dusted a chair and sat down heavily. Maker, how long has he been standing for? He nearly groaned out loud as his muscles relaxed. Garret’s sharp eyes followed him carefully.

“Cullen, you practically look like a ghoul. I would know. Are you vent on working yourself to death?” Hawke sat down on a chair across from him, leaning his staff on a dusty bookshelf.

“I assume Varric’s been feeding you information about Inquisition? You should know how bad things have been. I’ve had no time to rest.” He motioned. “And work’s piling up while I’m here listening to your bad jokes. You said you’ve fought Corypheus before?” Hawke nodded.

“By the Maker’s sake, how did you get involved with _Corypheus_ of all people? I knew you liked to get into trouble, but this… _this_ is legend come to life.” Hawke somehow pulled out gin out of somewhere, and placed it on the dusty table.

“Let’s do things my way. We always end up doing this my way, so don’t argue. It’ll go faster.” Cullen’s sigh drew another smirk from the mage.

“You take a drink – you need it – and tell me what you know about Corypheus. Varric wasn’t able to get that. And then I’ll tell you everything I know about him, including the killing part. Then we can form a plan. By the time we get to the planning part, half the bottle will be empty.” There was no point in arguing with Hawke. He always won at the end. Grabbing the bottle, Cullen took a long swig.

“Fine. My second in command gave me a report after he came back from dropping a mountain on the damn thing’s head. Said it claimed to be one of the eleven Tevinter magisters that had stormed the Golden City thousand years ago. The very same that is said to have released the blight into this world. The first darkspawn the world has ever known. He wishes to rip open the Veil, enter the Black City, and claim the Maker’s throne for himself.” Cullen drank again deeply, and passed the bottle. “Your turn.”

Hawke drank before speaking as well. “Well, I got involved with him when he started to send people after me. You see, Corypheus was in some special Warden underground cage, magically sealed. But he was using his connection to the Blight to influence the Wardens. Controlled their minds. He even got control over an entire carta by getting them to drink darkspawn blood. Weird shit. Anyway, I got sick of killing these people coming after me, and had Varric look into it to wipe out the source. Varric came through.” Hawke took another sip. “We tracked the carta all the way down to Corypheus. And of course, it was a trap. Turns out that the Wardens had used my father’s blood in the ritual to seal him. Corypheus needed my blood to escape. And I was stuck in the cage with him. So I did the only reasonable thing. I killed him.” Cullen snorted, and took the bottle.

“No, I’m serious. I killed that monster there. I wasn’t about to prance out of that prison without making sure he was dead. We checked for pulse. Full of holes, stab wounds, magic burns, everything. That monster was dead beyond any doubt.” Cullen drank, and wiped his mouth.

“So you killed him and he what, came back to life?” Hawke nodded.

“I thought the Wardens had sealed him to control him or use him or something. Maybe they sealed him in because he couldn’t be killed? Some kind of weird Tevinter blood magic? Or maybe he used his connection with the Blight to bring himself back. I’ve been staying in touch with Solona.” He tried not to flinch at the mention of her name. Hawke continued on “She said that archdemons have the ability to revive itself as long as it was killed by normal people. That’s why we need Grey Wardens to end the blights. They’re only ones that can completely kill an archdemon.”

Cullen put the bottle down and frowned. “Your information definitely is useful. We wouldn’t have found out about this for a while. You said there was a planning stage. What’s this planning stage?”

“I have a friend in the Wardens named Stroud. I asked him to investigate the red lyrium we found in Kirkwall. I had hoped Wardens might have more information on the blighted stuff. The last time we spoke he was worried about some sort of corruption in the Warden ranks. Since then, nothing.”

“Corypheus would certainly qualify as corruption in the ranks. Did he disappear with the other Wardens?”

“No. He told me he’d be hiding in an old smuggler’s cave near Crestwood. Considering that Corypheus is a darkspawn, I think it’s worth the shot trying to contact him.” Hawke pressed the bottle into his hand again. “At the moment, we’ll take any lead we can get.” Cullen took a sip and idly noticed the bottle was empty.

“Good. I’ll do whatever I can to help. Corypheus is my responsibility. I’ll make sure to kill him this time.”

“Great. Why don’t you head down to Crestwood and wait for my men there? I have reports of fade rifts in that area. I’ll convince the Herald to go meet you.” Hawke nodded his assent, and Cullen moved to rise.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Hawke pulled out a second bottle. Where does he keep them?

“I have work to do.” Cullen bit off each word. “Yes, but we have catching up to do as well.” Hawke waved the bottle at him. A fine Ferelden wine. “I’m not going anywhere until I’ve talked your ears off.”

Cullen glared at Hawke, but the mage met his gaze unflinching. The man was serious. Throwing his hands up in defeat, Cullen let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. Where the Void have you been since you left the Viscount’s seat?” Cullen drank the wine Hawke held out.

“Around. I heard that Divine Justinia was planning a second Exalted March against Kirkwall. I left thinking that it would force her to divide her army to catch me. Turns out I needn’t have bothered since all Circles rebelled. How’d you fare after I left?”

“How do you think? All your responsibilities fell right into my lap after you disappeared. Could have given me some warnings at least. I did my best trying to keep the city from breaking into pieces. Rebuilding the city, controlling what few mages that were left, bloodthirsty templars. Once the city was stable enough, I took up Cassandra’s offer to join the Inquisition.” He took another sip before passing the bottle.

“How’s Isabella? I know Aveline’s still at Kirkwall. She helped me out when I was Knight-Commander there. That city’s probably sink into ocean if she decided to quit her job. And Fenris and that Dalish elf… Merrill?”

“Merrill’s taken her clan away from the war going on between the mages and templars. Doing pretty good job too, from what I hear. Fenris is off somewhere killing slavers. If I need him I just follow the trail of corpses. He leaves them behind just for me. Isabella’s an Admiral now. Has huge hat and everything too. Don’t think the war’s affecting her too much.”

“And Anders?” Cullen’s voice came out more as a growl. Hawke looked at him for a long moment before taking a sip and answering. “Not too sure where he went after the battle in Kirkwall. He did help the templars in the end, so perhaps he managed to control Vengeance. My guess is, he went back to the Wardens, if he went anywhere. Solona’s accepted him before.

Accepting the bottle, Cullen downed the rest of the wine before he gathered the courage to ask the next question. “Your cousin, Solona… You said you stayed in touch with her? Do you know what happened to her?” Nobody seemed to know what happened to the Hero of Ferelden.

“I got a letter from her a while back when Seekers started hunting me and her down. She said she was going to go search for something, and that it would take her far away. Conveniently away from the Seekers looking for her. She said she would try not to die. I think she’ll come back when she finds whatever she is looking for.” Hawke’s eyes sparkled with curiosity, but the man knew better than to ask Cullen anything when it came to Solona. Cullen changed the subject.

“How’s your brother, Carver?” Hawke made a disgusted noise. “I had Aveline take him away as soon as the weird shit started happening with the Wardens. Of course he wasn’t happy about it. But he is alive and safe.”

They sat and talked for couple more hours, reminiscing about the times they spent together in Kirkwall, without the scarred heaven looming over them, and asking after their associates. Eventually, Hawke ran out of bottles to pull out magically, and Cullen could shirk his duty no longer. Confirming that he would send the Inquisitor to the Crestwood, and to meet again afterwards again at Skyhold, they departed the dusty library. Despite the grave news Hawke brought with him, Cullen was glad to see his strange companion safe.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Version. Here is the [link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4163601/chapters/27441195) for the remastered Second Chance for Him story.

As days merged into weeks, Cullen's workload decreased to somewhat more manageable size as repairs to Skyhold progressed on. As expected, Josephine and Leliana announced to the world their new Inquisitor, the woman delivered by Andraste herself. Cullen felt a flash of worry whenever he thought of their new ‘leader’, but mentally waved his concerns aside. The news of the Herald’s acceptance of the role of Inquisitor was raising the morality among his men considerably, and brought in a steady source of volunteers to join the Inquisition.

And Cullen had to admit, that when it came to meetings with noble allies the Herald was more apt than he gave her credit for. She sat through each and every meetings Josephine pushed her through, smiling happily while drinking tea and chatting of mundane things such as shoes. After the first such meeting he attended after Josephine trapped him, Cullen vowed never to attend another.

When it came to the matters of more physical duties as the Inquisitor, the Herald was impossible. She outright refused to travel to any areas that posed possible threats – which was everywhere in the world at the moment – and only hours of arguing finally allowed the advisers to send her to areas with rifts spewing demons. She always had a complaint regarding her traveling amenities, her simple clothing, and such other nonsense, and never traveled with her nonhuman members of Inquisition if she could help it. So it often fell on Cassandra, Blackwall, and Vivienne to protect their Herald and to stabilize the areas they visited to the best of their abilities.

When Cullen shared his impromptu meeting with Hawke to the war council, he had to restrain the Seeker from rushing out to throttle Varric. Maker’s breath, that woman was  _strong_. When Cassandra finally settled down enough for him to talk, Cullen quickly shared the promise of meeting with Warden Stroud and Hawke in Crestwood, and they drew up a plan for the Inquisitor to head down to the area immediately. Of course, convincing the Herald to go to a village being sieged by corpses took much longer. Cullen barely reigned in his anger at her obnoxious protests, flexing his fists under the table. By the time Cassandra dragged the Herald away to ready themselves for the ride, even Leliana was fuming.

“I know she needed to be named Inquisitor for the politics’ sake, but she is impossible!” Cullen growled. His headache was growing worse by the minute, aggravated by the Herald’s constant whining.

“How much time did we just waste on convincing her to go close the rift at Crestwood? An hour?” Leliana bristled visibly. Josephine tried to placate them. “The important thing is that she is going, and soon Crestwood will be free of corpses and the villagers will be safe again. Seeker Pentaghast will make sure of it. And soon we will have word from Warden Stroud and the Champion of Kirkwall. It is the lead we have needed desperately.”

Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose, and grimaced. His hands were threatening to shake; fresh sheen of sweat broke through his skin over the brows. Cullen could practically taste the bittersweet lyrium on his tongue. “If there is nothing else, I will head back to my office.” His strained voice immediately made Leliana and Josephine look worried, but he quickly fled the war room before they had a chance to speak.

 

*******

 

“ _ **Out!**_ ” Cullen snarled at the soldiers in his office, making them scamper away in their hurry to get out of their Commander’s way. He caught the last one, and through his gritted teeth, ordered her to tell Barris he was in charge until further notice. After bolting all three doors, Cullen bent over his desk, gripping the edges of his table tightly until his hands ached. A moment later, his withdrawal symptoms overwhelmed him.

The headache developed into a splitting pain, blinding him. Flashes of bright lights danced in his sights. His guts clenched and heaved, trying to turn his insides out. Thankfully, he had forgone his meals and there was nothing in his stomach.

Gripping the tables could no longer stop his hands from shaking. Tremors started from his fingertips and slowly spread up his arms, and to the rest of his body. Cullen collapsed heavily into a crumpled heap onto the floor, his shaking legs no longer able to support the heavy weight of armor.

Thousand daggers stabbed and sliced along his skin, twisting and melting into his bones. Cold sweat covered his body sickly as his fever worsened. He shuddered, somehow feeling hot and cold at once.

Cullen bit down hard on his lips, until blood began to flow. I will  _not_  make any noise that may alert my men. I  _will not_. I  _ **cannot**_. By the Maker, there were guards right outside his door. When a pained groan began to form in his throat, Cullen opted for biting on his fist instead. _I cannot be seen by my men like this!_

And so Cullen laid on the cold floor silently, his teeth digging deep into his gloved fist. He counted the seconds, and then minutes until the pain washed all coherent thoughts away from him.

 

*******

 

Cullen woke with a start when a soft yet insistent knock reverberated through his quiet office.  _How long have I been out for?_  Judging from how dark his office was, probably couple of hours at least. The knock came yet again, a little louder this time. Sighing, Cullen pulled himself up to his feet, and moved to his door. Unbolting it, Cullen found himself staring at the spirit-boy Cole.

“Cole? What are you doing here?” Cullen asked warily. Cole had been helpful at the Therinfal Redoubt, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous or unpredictable. Cole held out the bottle in his hands.

“Shivering, shaking, tiny needle like daggers twisting. Throbbing pain nestled in the back of the unseeing eyes. Always wanting, hurting, and reaching for the blue relief in the small box. Shackles and relief. Can’t let them see, can’t let them know. But I know. I… I want to help.”

Well that was unusually direct, coming from him. Cullen stepped aside to allow the boy to come in. He didn’t want Cole spouting his ‘hurt’ within the earshot of his guards.

Cole pushed a vial of something into his hand, which Cullen peered at warily. Deciding it was just water, he gulped it down. The water was chilled, shocking the last lingering hunger for lyrium out of his system as it slid down his parched throat. When he drained it, Cole started to wipe away at Cullen’s face with a warm wet cloth. Cullen started to protest against the motion, until he caught the scent of the cloth he was using.

It somehow smelled of wildflowers, oranges, and sweet honey. Of spicy smoke of the fire roaring at his family’s hearth that reminds him of warmth and safety. Somehow, Cole had made this small piece of fabric smell like  _her_. The woman who haunted his dreams every night despite the decade that’s gone past. It was the scent that wafted around him in his dreams when Cullen ran his fingers through her lustrous black hair, watching her lovely brown eyes softening at him.

Shocked speechless, Cullen numbly lets Cole wipe the cooling sweat off of his face.

“Roaring fire, warmth seeping into cold bones. So dark, so cold, and yet she brings light. Keeps me here, keeps me grounded. Real. Smells so sweet, of flower and honey, of fruit she likes so much. It once made me happy. But they corrupted it, twisted it. Mixed with demons and rot. Rotten oranges.” Cullen flinched as Cole picked out the last day Cullen had smelled her in waking moments. “It’s alright… She doesn’t smell like that. She never smelled like that. She does smell a little coppery though. That was real. She bleeds lots of bad people.”

Cullen waved the boy away. He wasn’t sure if he could take it any longer. “Thank you, Cole. The water was definitely helpful. Don’t tell anybody else of my ‘hurt.’ Nobody else needs to know.”

Cole looked sad and confused. “But they will want to know. They all worry.” Cullen shook his head. “They will worry, but there won’t be anything they can do to help me. It will make them hurt too.” Cole thought for a moment, and then nodded. “No need to spread the hurt. The long steel ringing as it hits the stark floor. Blood dripping, pooling into puddle. His wild eyes begged me to help him. I helped the only way I could. I helped him with my sword. Splashed puddle when his face falls in it.” Cullen turned ashen at that, and Cole immediately shook his head agitatedly.

“No! No, that didn’t work. I’ll try again.” “No! Cole. Stop. Just… just leave me alone for now. You did help today. Thank you.” Cole looked at him sadly. “I can’t make you forget.”

“No. I can’t forget. Nor do I want to. Good night, Cole.” The boy simply disappeared.

Cullen took a long moment to regain his composure, breathing deeply through his nose. After pocketing the small piece of cloth Cole had left behind, Cullen smoothed his curly hair and pulled on his Commander mask before striding out of his office in search for Barris. He always had more work to do.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Version. Here is the [link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4163601/chapters/27441195) for the remastered Second Chance for Him story.

Cullen rubbed his temple, as his headache threatened to overwhelm him. Hawke's report on the Grey Wardens at Western Approach brought horrible memories surging back to his thought. Demons, blood magic rituals. Cullen shivered as his memories from Kinloch hold overlapped with Hawke's words, mingling together in his mind. And even worse, it was the  _Grey Warden_  Order that was resorting to the blood magic. He couldn't help how his thoughts flashed to warm brown eyes looking at him, his one special warden. He shoved the image out of his head.  _Not now_ , he admonished himself. There was work to do.

Hawke had returned to Skyhold after meeting with the Warden Stroud and the Inquisitor at the Crestwood briefly before leaving for the Western Approach to check out the Wardens there. The moment they came back from the desert, Hawke had roused Cullen from his bed none too gently to call this war meeting. Granted, the information they brought back couldn’t wait till sunrise, but Cullen had grumbled at the rough treatment when Hawke had unceremoniously dumped him on his cold wooden floor.

“Adamant fortress has stood against the darkspawn since the time of the Second Blight.” Leliana voiced out. How she manages to gather information in such short span of time, Cullen will never know.

“Fortunately for us, that means it was built before the age of modern siege equipment.” Cullen willed his mind to work through the sleepy haze. “A good trebuchet will do major damage to those ancient walls.” _I think_.  _Maker’s breath, I need to wake up._  He barely resisted the urge to rub his eyes. Glancing at the exhausted Hawke standing next him, Cullen continued. “Erimond called the ritual at the Western Approach a test. He may already been raising his army of demons in the fortress. The Inquisition forces can breach the gate, but if the Wardens already have their demons…” Cullen grimaced, letting his sentence go unfinished. There was no reason to voice his thoughts.

“Taking this fortress is going to get a lot of good soldiers killed.” Hawke said quietly. Cullen agreed, looking at Cassandra nod grimly. But his men knew their duty. Leliana’s words drew him out of his dark musings.

“It may not need be so bloody.” She shifted, shuffling her feet slightly. Her hands were clutched behind her back tightly. Was she…  _nervous?_  He’s never seen the confident Sister even so much as bat her eyes in uncertainty before.

“I may know a potential… ally. The strongest the Inquisition could possibly hope to gain.” Leliana was  _stalling_. Cullen’s curiosity grew tenfold.

“Who is this ally, Leliana? We’ll need all the help we can get.” Impatiently, Cassandra urged her on. Leliana looked down at her feet. “I have a way to contact the First Warden Solona Amell.”

The room fell silent at Leliana’s confession. Cullen couldn’t quite remember how to breathe. Of course, it was Cassandra who was the first to explode. “You have a  _what?_  You knew where she’s been all this time? Leliana, we spent months looking for the Hero of Ferelden and the Champion! You… have you ever believed in our quest? I thought the disappearance of the Hero and the Champion was somehow connected to everything. But no, it was you and Varric keeping them away from us Seekers.”

Leliana suddenly whirled onto the Seeker, anger blazing in her grey eyes. Cassandra hesitantly took a step back at the other woman’s sudden ferocity. “Don’t you  _dare_ , Cassandra, question my dedication to the Inquisition. I gave everything to the Inquisition for this cause we fight for!” Malice practically dripped from every word Leliana spat out at Cassandra, backing the Seeker up against the wall.

“The moment the Seekers began their searched for Solona and Champion, I sent a word to her. Detailing why the Seekers were looking for her, and requesting her to take position as Inquisitor if the Inquisition was to be formed. Solona refused for reasons that I choose not to share now. She made her choice, and I respected her decision.” Cassandra seemed at a loss for words, facing the furious Spymaster. Leliana did not break her eye contact with the Seeker, and it was Hawke who saved the poor woman.

“Leliana? You were saying you had a way to get a word to my wonderfully elusive cousin?”

Shooting one more murderous look at Cassandra, Leliana turned her attention back to the war table. Taking a deep breath, she pulled her cool expressionless mask back on and continued.

“Unlike Varric, _I_  have not been feeding Solona information about the Inquisition. In fact, the method of communication she left me was for emergencies only – and can be used only once. Her personal quest has taken her so far west that I doubt she is even aware of everything that is going on here currently. If not, I am sure she would be back in the middle of this madness as she usually is.”

“Why haven’t you contacted her before, Leliana? We could have had her help before. With her here, I wouldn’t have had to go all the way out to Crestwood and Western Approach.” The Inquisitor put in, and as annoyed as Cullen was by her reasons, he couldn’t help but wonder the same.

“Yes, why now? We’ve found out about Corypheus weeks before when he attacked Haven. For Maker’s sake, he has a pet archdemon. Shouldn’t you have contacted her as soon as we escaped Haven?” Leliana threw a sidelong glance at him.

“Corypheus claims to be a creature straight out of legends, Commander. Until now we have had no concrete information on him other than the fact that he wants to assassinate the queen of Orlais, and may be doing something with the Wardens. And despite the dragon we saw at Haven, there have been no sign of Blight so far.” Leliana’s icy composure suddenly broke, and Cullen saw the struggle in her that hinted at the sadness this woman held. Her eyes were somewhere faraway.

“I am dedicated to our cause. But Solona is my friend, my companion, my heart. My loyalty will always lie with her first. She already saved the world once from a Blight – and she nearly had to sacrifice herself, her very  _soul_ , to do so. She nearly did, willingly. I have hoped that maybe this time, the world won’t demand so much from her yet again.” Leliana shook her head, dragging her eyes back to the leaders of the Inquisition.

“But now we have proof that the Orlesian Grey Wardens are practicing blood magic and binding demons that are directly enslaving them to Corypheus. If I do not send word to her regarding this matter, she will never forgive me.” Josephine put her hand on Leliana, squeezing lightly.

“So what were you planning to do if we decide we don’t want her as allies?” The Herald asked, and Leliana shrugged.

“Considering who Solona is, I didn’t think the notion would even cross our minds. But if the general consensus is that we don’t want an alliance with her, I would send word to her regardless, informing of the current situations. The only difference would be that she would most likely return to Ferelden to plan her moves, instead of coming here to Skyhold.”

Cullen wasn’t sure if he liked the idea of her coming to Skyhold. Solona Amell, at Skyhold. Where he was. The image of her delicate frame came unbidden, before he roughly shoved it away. “You said that she would be a powerful ally, but from what you’ve said so far I gather she has no idea of the current situations. And from all the rumors floating about, she’s traveling alone. How could she be of any help against Corypheus, let alone the siege we are preparing against Adamant?”

At that, Leliana let out a short laugh and Josephine gasped. “You can’t be  _serious_ , Commander! Do you truly not know?” Cullen looked at the two, confused as to their reaction. His question wasn’t  _that_  unreasonable, was it?

Hawke snorted. “Cullen, I knew you were daft, but questioning the abilities of my cousin? Really, I thought you knew her better than that.”

“Champion, the Commander was doing nothing of sort. He was questioning how one mage would help to influence a siege. War is fought by soldiers, not individuals after all.” Cassandra shot back. She seemed to have recovered from her shock from earlier.

“Well, either way. Having the famed Hero of Ferelden come help can’t hurt, right?” The Inquisitor waved her hand offhandedly. “Send a word to her, Leliana.” Josephine coughed lightly, drawing the others’ attentions.

“Inquisitor, Commander, lady Seeker. Requesting alliance with lady Amell is not a task to be made light of.” She said delicately. Judging by his experience with her so far, he knew Josephine was trying to explain something that was very basic.

“How so? We’ve formed alliances with nobles before.” Cullen knew he was being insufferable. But they were discussing  _her_.

Sharing a look with Leliana, Josephine gestured with her hand. “Commander, Lady Solona Amell is one of the most powerful figure in Thedas. In fact, she probably  _is_  the most powerful figure in Thedas currently. Including the Inquisition.” Cullen briefly thought of her soft eyes, and shook his head. He couldn’t link the image in his head to Josephine’s description of her.  _The most powerful figure in Thedas_. Josephine noticed his disbelief and sighed.

“Surely you can’t be serious Josephine!” Inquisitor huffed indignantly. “Inquisition is becoming one of the strongest order in Thedas!” Leliana shook her head.

“No, Inquisitor. Josephine is, by no means, exaggerating. Not many people realize how much influence Solona has. Which is not surprising, considering her character. But allow me to put his bluntly. As I have said before, she is the most powerful ally the Inquisition could hope to gain. If Inquisition decides to turn against her, she will also become the most dangerous enemy. Even more so than Corypheus.”

“I’ve heard the tales regaling her skills before, but you can’t seriously expect us to believe that she is more threatening than Corypheus!” Seeker protested, but Hawke only chuckled.

“Lady Amell is the First Warden of the Order. And unlike the previous First Wardens who operated at Weisshaupt via correspondences and left most of practical matters to be dealt with by Warden Commanders, Lady Amell personally oversees the Grey Warden matters and many political movements. Such methods of her ruling has allowed to her to wield both political and military power that previous First Wardens have never even known. Plus her popularity among the people is very widespread.” Josephine started, her tone indicating that this was only the beginning of her lecture.

“She is a direct commander of the Warden Commanders scattered throughout the Thedas – who of course commands the Grey Wardens in each country. This is to say, she is the sole commander of the Grey Wardens in the entirety of Thedas. And Grey Wardens have treaties that allow them to recruit whoever they wish. If lady Amell feels that it is necessary, she can triple the number of her men at a moment’s notice. Also if she were to order her Wardens to stay away from a country experiencing a Blight – the Grey Wardens will obey. She potentially has the power to destroy nations.” Cullen stared at their ambassador in shock. She waved her hand vaguely. “Of course she won’t do so, since the Wardens are sworn against the Blight. And Lady Amell has already proved herself to be much more competent than her predecessor during the fifth Blight. But say if she saw strategical value in giving up Antiva for some reason or another, then she could possibly allow Antiva to get destroyed by the darkspawn during a blight. It is within her power.”

Hawke whistled at that. “I knew she held some high rank in the Grey Warden Order, but I didn’t realize just how high up she was. I should have asked more favors from her.” Cassandra shot him a dark look.

“But that is not the only leverage Solona has at the moment.” Leliana smiled. “The current King of Ferelden, Alistair Theirin is a Grey Warden. This is a rather secretive information that Wardens generally do not share, but as long as there is blight flowing through the Warden’s blood, one is considered a Grey Warden and is part of the Order. In Alistair’s case, the situation has become somewhat complicated, since Solona placed him on that throne. But it remains that Alistair is a Grey Warden, and while he may not answer to the Warden Commanders as he is King, he _is_  compelled to answer to the First Warden. Which gives Solona rather a direct control over Ferelden.”

Josephine looked at her, complete shock showing through her gentle features momentarily. “But wouldn’t the nobles of Ferelden protest at such complications?”

“Even if Solona wasn’t the First Warden, she still put Alistair on that throne. She would have some sort of power over him no matter what. And even if she hadn’t, Alistair has never been able to resist Solona. Not even once.” Leliana smirked “He gave her a rose during the Blight once. Said it surprised him that something so beautiful could bloom during the time of so much death and corruption. He said it reminded him of her. Oh, he was so romantic.” Cullen couldn’t help the ugly twisted feeling that reared its head inside him. Cullen didn’t examine it too carefully – he didn’t want to know what such feelings meant. He did his best to keep his face blank, grateful that most of the room’s attention was focused on the Spymaster.

A pointed cough from the Herald seemed to draw the Spymaster back to present. “Oh, and the nobles of Ferelden absolutely adore Solona. She did save them all from the Blight. And end the civil war. And she did carry out quite a bit of personal favors for them. She plays the Game masterfully, even if she detests it. Arl Eamon once got worried at how powerful she was becoming politically, and tried to cast her out of Alistair’s court. Nearly half of Ferelden rebelled at that. Fereldens love their Hero, and many owe their lives to her.”

Josephine recovered from her shock and continued. “It is also said that the Hero of Ferelden is a personal friend of the Arishok, who would do anything for her. She has the might of qunari military on her side.” Hawke nodded at that, grimly.

“Solona said something about that to me. After I killed the previous arishok, apparently her friend got promoted. Said she was getting all sorts of reports and support from her qunari contact.”

“And there’s even more. After the blight, she traveled to Antiva for a time with Zevran and met the Queen there. I am not too certain on the details, but it seems she left quite the impression on the Antivan court.” Leliana shook her head, looking amused.

“Of course, then Alistair decided to name her the Arlessa of Amaranthine. The City of Amaranthine is a very prosperous port city, and that alone makes Solona quite a significant nobility. She has many nobles sworn to her there and many merchants that wants to please her. On top of that, she has direct connection to the dwarves of Orzammar. She put Prince Bhelen Aeducan on his throne, and never quite let him forget that. And then the mages decided to name her the First Enchanter of Ferelden Circle of Magi. I understand she refused this particular title – but they dumped it on her anyway. She was making her way to the Circle to reject this title when the Seekers started to hunt for her and she had to disappear. And of course this is without even counting her battle prowess, which is unparalleled. Her understanding of tactics is exceptional. And need I even mention what a powerful mage she is?”

Maker’s breath, Cullen’s head swam with the information that was loaded onto him. He knew next to nothing when it came to political power play – but the significance of power Josephine and Leliana hinted at which Solona supposedly held couldn’t possibly be lost even to him. He knew Solona was powerful… she ended the damned blight for Andraste’s sake… but this? This was something he never would have guessed.

The Herald was openly gaping at Leliana and Josephine now. “How come I have never heard of this before? If what you say is true, she holds immense power. She could wrap nations around her fingers. Apparently she already has Ferelden under her thumb.” Leliana’s smile turned soft and wistful. “True, and if it was anybody else, I am sure more people would be aware of her influence. But Solona never saw a reason to abuse her powers – said as a Grey Warden she shouldn’t be politically involved as much as possible. Being completely neutral was impossible considering her station, but she tried. I once asked her what she would do with so much favors gathered among the nations and nobilities. She said nothing, unless another world threatening emergency forced her hand. It is among many reasons why I trust her completely.”

Cullen tried to bring his thoughts back to more professional matters. The images forming in his head would have to be examined closer later. “If she is that powerful, perhaps she can even order the Grey Wardens at Adamant to stand down. That would allow this conflict to end with little bloodshed. We would only have to concern ourselves with the Warden Mages and the demons.”

The Inquisitor straightened and looked at Leliana. “Send the word to the First Warden. We will welcome her here at Skyhold – and offer her an alliance. I cannot possibly let such an opportunity go.” With that the long meeting was over.

 

*******

 

“Are you alright, Hawke? You look ready to fall asleep on your feet.” Cullen examined the mage carefully. Hawke did look exhausted, but unharmed. The man shot him an irritated look.

“You know me well enough to know how pointless that question is. Just point me to a bed and a wine cellar and I’ll be fine by the morning.” Cullen snorted.

“You don’t know where the wine cellar is yet? Hawke, you’re slipping. Perhaps old age is getting to you.” But Cullen did make sure the mage got to a decent bed properly before making his way back to his own. Climbing the ladder that led up to his room, Cullen dropped heavily onto his mattress and put his face in his gloved hands and sighed deeply. There was few hours left till dawn arrived, but Cullen knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep anymore tonight.

Cullen could count the number of times he spoke of Solona after the mage rebellion in Ferelden with his fingers. He’s heard the stories and rumors that floated around the templar barracks of course – he would have had to live under a rock to not know of her impressive adventures and accomplishments. He even saw her end the Blight with his own eyes when he was fighting beside Wynne in the Denerim Market District. The blinding white-gold flash of light hitting the top of tower still burned before his eyes. But Cullen never participated in such conversations. He didn’t want to reveal his brief acquaintance with the Hero of Ferelden, and the only times he had spoken out loud regarding her had been with Hawke, asking after her health. Even that had often left him screaming out loud in the middle of night in his bed, his breath short and eyes wild as he was forced to relieve his tortured time at the Kinloch Hold. After a particularly long conversation he overheard regarding the battle at Amaranthine, the siege of Vigil’s Keep, and how Solona had so aptly protected both, Cullen had woken up confused and had attacked sleeping Samson who had been sharing quarters with him at the time in his terrified state. After the incident, he was assigned to a room with no bunkmates.

And now, he’s heard Solona’s accomplishments directly from Leliana – who have traveled with her during the Blight. Unable to resist any longer, Cullen’s thoughts returned to the young mage he had been assigned to a decade ago in the Circle.

It was so shamefully easy to recall her clearly. Her black hair was long, reaching to her waist. It looked soft in candlelight, and during the nights Cullen watched her study late into ungodly hours, he often wondered if it would feel like silk or velvet in his hands. Her brown eyes were large and innocent, and yet somehow stole the power of speech from him so easily. His attention was often stolen by her full lips caught between her white teeth as she chewed on them while she practiced advanced magic that should have been far beyond her powers.

And when she fell asleep in her chair in the library, it was always Cullen who carried her to her quarters. Even to this day, he could recall how her warmth radiated through his armor as she snuggled up to him in her sleep. He never felt how soft she was, as he was always clad in his armor – but that hadn’t stopped him from imagining her as he tried to sleep all those years ago. Despite his desperate attempts to ignore the attraction he felt toward the mage, Cullen couldn’t help how he grew erect at the thought of touching her, holding her flush against him. And such thoughts had plagued him every night in the Circle tower.

The other templars had teased him relentlessly about it. Cullen’s cheeks grew hot at the memory – Maker, those raunchy words he had endured back then would have set even Isabella blushing furiously. Cullen was never a good liar, and his friends saw right through him when he stumbled all over himself near Solona. If Cullen hadn’t been such a stickler for following rules, he was sure the Knight-Commander Gregoir would have reassigned him. As it was, Cullen was the one who was assigned to strike the blow had she failed her Harrowing.

Then the demons had come.

They dove into his deepest desires, the ones he had never admitted even to himself. They found the precious memories he had kept of her, and corrupted and twisted it into vile images to use against him. It was always her form the desire demons wore when they tried to break his mind. They tried to tempt him, to crack him. They hinted at the soft swell of her breasts as they teased him with slightly open robes, with slender legs showing beneath a mage robe drawn up slightly. Cullen wasn’t sure if he would have survived the temptations if he hadn’t heard that all the Grey Wardens in Ferelden had died at Ostagar.

Realizing that Cullen would not fall for the ruse, demons quickly moved onto new methods of torture. Cullen endured the blinding pain the blood mages put him through with gritted teeth – he was too stubborn to give them the satisfaction of breaking him. But resisting the demons was another matter entirely. Wearing  _her_  form, wearing  _her_  smile, demons tried to claim his body. The divine legs wrapped around his waist and flawless porcelain skin that had been but a fantasy his youthful mind had conjured up were all too real as demons offered him  _her_  during that waking nightmare.

Weakened after days of starvation, dehydration, magical torture, and lyrium withdrawals, Cullen could barely resist the demons from using his body as they wished. He had been but a moment away from falling on his own sword to stop them when real Solona came rushing through the doors of the tower, covered in blood and gore from head to foot. She hurt herself pounding on the magical barrier that kept him prisoner.

Her familiar pulse of magic as she attacked the barrier was the only thing that had convinced Cullen that Solona was indeed truly there with him  _alive_. The demons may have taken her form, but they couldn’t imitate her magic. Her magic was her own, and Cullen was more attuned to it than any other living being. And then he had hurled the most hurtful, spiteful, hateful words he could think of at her.

Groaning, Cullen pulled the small piece of cloth Cole had given him out of his pocket and clenched it tightly in his hand. Nearly every night since the rescue, his dreams held her in one context or another. More often than not, he relieved the moment when the demons in her form tortured him mercilessly in the Kinloch Hold. Other times, his uncorrupted memories brought forth a pleasant image of Solona smiling at him. Cullen held up his fist holding the cloth to his forehead, once again catching the scent Cole had somehow procured. And now, Leliana was asking her to come to Skyhold. Andraste guide him, he was  _afraid_.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Version. Here is the [link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4163601/chapters/27441195) for the remastered Second Chance for Him story.

Days passed after Leliana informed them that she had sent word to Solona. Cullen couldn’t help how quickly his mood darkened as they waited for her correspondence - his withdrawal symptoms were worsening with every passing hour. Every day Cullen struggled to contain his vicious cravings for lyrium pulsing in his desk drawer as he smelled the metallic odor on his lieutenants and captains. Once Rylen and Barris had come right after taken their draughts to make a report to him, and Cullen had all but thrown them out of his office in his desperation to avoid the fresh aching hunger that smell triggered within him. Cullen knew his officers were worried about him – they weren’t by any means stupid and knew something was wrong – which caused his mood to foul even more.

Adding to his ever growing list of distress, the Inquisitor never left him alone. Cullen had confessed his lyrium withdrawals to her out of respect for her position, but he didn’t expect the Inquisitor to come by so often to check up on his health. That was the excuse anyway.

The way Jane Trevelyan touched him and her suggestive remarks made him uncomfortable. Cullen did his best to avoid such awkward situations to the best of his abilities – but she often ambushed him in his office or on the battlements. Such as now. Cullen sighed as the Inquisitor insisted on talking to him, dragging him away from watching the soldiers training. Maker’s breath, would she ever let him work in peace?

He nodded at the guards saluting them as they found a somewhat isolated spot on the walls. However, he was completely caught off guard at what came out of her mouth next. “Cullen, I care for you. I was hoping that you would be willing to court me.” Cullen’s jaw fell open in shock as he stared at her dumbly. “I, uh…” he stuttered.

“Cullen, you’re a very handsome man, and I am a very attractive woman. You are the Commander of Inquisition forces, and I am the Inquisitor. Our pairing would be raise morals among the men. There is nothing stopping us.” The Inquisitor tried to pull him closer to him, bringing her hands up to his face. Unthinking, Cullen grabbed her hands to stop the contact a little too roughly. The woman looked surprised.

“Inquisitor, I apologize for giving you the wrong impression. But I do not wish to court you.” Cullen grasped desperately at words, wishing to get this over with. Her eyes narrowed at him and he dropped her hand hastily.

“Is this because I am a mage?” Cullen blinked at that, surprised. “No, my lady. The magic does not concern me as it once may have.”

“Then why would you reject me?” Cullen flinched as her voice rose several pitches. “I am a beautiful noble woman, now one of the most powerful ones in Thedas. If it isn’t my magic, what other reasons could you possibly have to reject me?”

Andraste preserve me, Cullen just didn’t know what to do. To make the matters worse, Cullen knew the guards nearby could hear every word the Inquisitor was shouting out, and was straining to hear them. Cullen took a step backwards.

“My lady, I thank you for your kind words regarding myself, but I simply do not… care for you in the same way. I am afraid I cannot offer you more. I trust you that you will understand.” Cullen spoke slowly, wishing he could be anywhere but here in this moment. The Inquisitor proceeded to shout at him loudly enough that Cullen was sure that half the Skyhold could hear her. By the time she stomped away in fury, Cullen knew that the incident was already making its rounds amongst the servant’s gossip.

 

*******

 

“So! I hear you had quite a chat with the Inquisitor.” Cullen glared at Bull, Hawke, Varric, Blackwall, and the Tevinter that sauntered into his office and decided to ignore them. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Hawke’s wide grin. “The entire keep knows about it, you know.”

Deciding that he wouldn’t get any work done with the five of them in his office, Cullen straightened and folded his arms, annoyed. “What do you want?”

“Oh nothing. It’s just that I could hear her shouting all the way from the tavern.” Bull laughed. “Must have been quite a rejection. What’d you say to her?” Cullen sighed as Hawke and Varric plopped onto the sacks piled up in the corner of his room with amused smiles plastered onto their face.

“Nothing really. Just told her that I couldn’t offer her what she wanted.” He grumbled out, and was rewarded hearty laugh from the men.

“I can’t believe she thought you would be willing to court her!” Dorian wheezed out. Blackwall gasped next to him. “I can! You should hear her talk whenever we are traveling. That woman practically swoons every time Cullen is mentioned. Thought he was lusting after her ‘gorgeous body’.” Cullen shook his head, trying to think of some sort of smart retort, when his side door opened and Jim came rushing in.

“Commander! Emergency message from Sister Leliana. She asked it be delivered to you at once, ser.” Accepting the note held out for him, he quickly read through the short letter in Leliana’s hand.

_Commander_

_Word from First Warden finally came. Come to the tower._

_Nightingale_

All other thoughts fled his mind as he gripped the note tightly enough to crumple it. Suddenly everybody in the room seemed wary.

“Hawke, word from the Hero has arrived. Leliana is looking for us.” Cullen motioned for him, willing his voice to stay steady. They were moving to Leliana’s perch a moment later, determined grim setting their lips to a thin line. When they reached the Spymaster, Josephine and Cassandra were already there.

“Ah, you’re both here. Good. Here’s what she sent to us.” Leliana held out the thick vellum. Cullen accepted it and started to read, easily recognizing the flowing hand the letter was written in. He could feel Hawke reading over his shoulder.

_Leliana_

_Maker’s breath! Leliana, when I said contact me for emergencies only, I did not mean ‘world is falling apart right now, legendary darkspawn with pet maybe archdemon is killing everything so there may be a blight going on, and your men is binding demons’! I was thinking something more along the lines of Seekers are done looking for you, or hey I’m not the Left Hand of Divine anymore… Why didn’t you contact me sooner? I will depart for Ferelden as soon as I finish writing this. I need to stop by Amaranthine first, make sure my Wardens there aren’t doing anything stupid – though I doubt with Oghren there that is far too much to hope for._

_I will travel fast – I think I can be there within the fortnight of you receiving this letter. I won’t bring too many people, just myself, Zev, Oghren, and few non-Warden guards. If Wardens are somehow being bound to Corypheus, I don’t want to risk bringing my men anywhere near this monster. You can bring me up to speed on everything when I do get back. I won’t be able to get any news the way I am traveling._

_Solona_

Cullen looked up as Hawke chuckled at the letter’s content, amused at his cousin’s chattiness. Leliana’s eyes were warm and excited, and smiled easily. “I sent the word through private channels, and she didn’t think to send an official response. But she says she’ll be here, and that’s all that matters.” Hawke plucked the letter out of his hands and waved it.

“Good to see she doesn’t sound like she changed too much. It’s been a long while since I’ve seen her. I’m looking forward to seeing her again.” If only Cullen could share the feelings. He only felt anxiety growing gnawing on his nerves.

“She said she would be bringing only few guards, but she is such an imposing figure! I need to start preparing quarters for her straightaway. And Skyhold is in no state to receive such a dignified visitor!” Josephine started to fuss, which Leliana stopped. “Josie, don’t fret! Trust me when I say she won’t mind. Solona was never one for ceremonies and titles.”

“If she is arriving within the fortnight, she will be arriving before we are done preparing for the siege against Adamant.” Cullen mulled, trying to ignore exactly who was coming. “I will try to speed up the process the best I can.” With that, Cullen turned on his heel and left the others chattering excitedly amongst themselves.

Solona was coming to Skyhold.

 

*******

 

“It’s a bit cold in here, don’t you think?” Josephine indeed sound cold – Cullen thought he could hear her teeth chatter.

“We are in the mountains.” Leliana looked at her friend amusedly.

“I’m more concerned about everything scattering when there’s a draft.” The wind never failed to mess up his piles of reports on his desk. Josephine just shook her head at him, exasperated. His lips twitched with a smile as he continued to stare at the map on the table. Cullen was considering pulling his men from Strom Coast for the siege when the heavy knocks pounded against the huge doors that led to the war room. As he heard the Inquisitor call out for the person to enter, Cullen ignored the intrusion easily. Inquisitor liked to get servants to bring little treats for her during the long war room meetings. His attention was focused on Hinterlands. Storm Coast was still a little unsteady. Maybe he could pull more men out of the Redcliffe for the upcoming siege.

There was a sudden blur as something rushed into the war room at an impossible speed, knocking Leliana down to the ground. The Spymaster let out a heavy grunt as she hit the floor.

Cullen’s sword was halfway unsheathed, his muscles reacting to the attack before his mind had even registered the fact that there was hostiles in the room. But Cullen never managed to pull his sword out of his scabbard fully.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You see, she has been looking forward to this reunion for far too long for me to allow you to spoil it.” Cullen’s body stilled instantly as velvety voice murmured softly somewhere behind him. There was an icy chill pressed into his throat – a dagger. Cullen knew that whoever was standing behind him could kill him with the lightest flick of his finger.  _How_  had he not seen the attacker move so close to him?

Josephine and the Inquisitor haven’t even had a chance to gasp in a breath for a decent scream.

Then Leliana giggled.

Dumbstruck, Cullen stared at the Spymaster pinned down on the ground next to him. Leliana,  _giggling_? The concept was so… foreign.

Then his eyes finally landed on the attacker pinning the Spymaster down. She had black hair, and was wearing blue Warden armor. Cullen drew in a sharp gasp of shock, his arms falling limply to his sides after releasing his pommel. Maker’s breath, but she wasn’t supposed to come for another three days! He didn’t notice when the cold dagger withdrew from his neck.

“Leliana! So good to see you. It’s been too long! You look great! You haven’t aged a day since I saw you last. How have you been?” Her musical voice wound around him, rooting him to the spot. Leliana giggled harder, tears welling in her eyes.

“Solona! You’re early! Oh it’s good to see you too.” Leliana hugged the woman tightly, still lying on the floor. Then a purebred mabari pounced on the two entangled in a heap. Leliana crowed in delight.

“Barkspawn! No, let me up! Ah! Stop licking! Yes, good to see you too. Barkspawn, you’re getting me soaked!” Cullen heard a low chuckle as the man who had been holding the dagger finally moved into his view. The elf – presumably Zevran Arainai, the famed Antivan Crow – helped the two women stand up, and also hugged Leliana tightly. “Ah Leliana. It has been far too long, no? You look as beautiful as always.” Leliana patted the elf’s arm and smiled brightly. “Zevran, you’re growing more and more handsome every time I see you. There must be some rule against being so devastatingly charming.” The elf again laughed as Leliana turned to the rest of them, looking happier than ever.

“Everyone, allow me to introduce Solona Amell, her loyal Barkspawn, and Zevran Arainai.” Each nodded their head in turn, their eyes full of mirth, still looking at Leliana. Solona was still holding onto Leliana’s hand tightly. Maker, she looked…  _beautiful_. Even more so than his dreams or the images demons had conjured up to torment him with.

She was different from the shy mage that was in his head – a decade had gone by since she was his charge. But she was still Solona. Her black hair was coiled tightly into a bun, out of the way. She was slightly taller, but still over a head shorter than he was. Her brown eyes were no longer full of young innocence, but of wisdom and confidence. Her slight build was the same, but much more muscular than he remembered. Her body had fully matured into a woman’s, and he couldn’t help but notice the soft swelling lines of her breasts and hips through the armor. And she radiated power. She was simply filled to the brim with it.

“And allow me to introduce the leaders of Inquisition. This is Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador. The Inquisitor Jane Trevelyan, and Ser Cullen Rutherfold. The Commander of Inquisition forces.” Cullen barely managed to nod in time with his introduction – his tongue was still frozen.

Her eyes lingered on him. And as Cullen watched, she saw her brown eyes widen in shock as she recognized him. Opening her mouth slightly, Cullen saw the sharp gasp she took. He braced himself for the scathing words and anger Solona was sure to throw at him. However, Solona simply stared.

Maker bless her, Josephine was already talking to Solona.

“Lady Amell! We have not been expecting you for another three days! Oh I apologize that we have not sent men ahead to greet you properly.” Josephine fussed, tearing Solona’s eyes away from him. He let out a breath he didn’t remember holding.

“Dear Lady Ambassador, apology is mine to make.” Solona dipped into a sweeping bow, somehow addressing all three of them with the motion. “I arrived few days ahead of schedule in my haste to meet with my good friend Leliana. Please, as much as the Inquisition is concerned, the First Warden Amell is currently traveling with her guards a few days ride from here. I am sure she will arrive in timely manner.” Her mischievous smile seemed to soothe Josephine considerably.

“Lady Inquisitor Trevelyan, may I say what an honor it is to meet you. Truly, the world is lucky to have you in its most dire moments of need.” Solona moved on smoothly to the Inquisitor, never missing a beat. “Allow me a few days rest from my weary travels, or shall we say, until the First Warden arrives with her guards…” Solona’s eyes glinted with amusement “and we can discuss the terms of alliance between the Inquisition and the Grey Wardens. I am sure we can reach some agreeable solution.”

The Inquisitor just nodded silently. She still seemed a little scared of the handsome elf standing by the Warden’s side. Her eyes finally returned to his.

“Commander Cullen.” He noticed her voice waivered slightly as she paused. “I wasn’t aware of your presence in the Inquisition. It is… good to see you again.”  _What in the Void’s name are_ ** _you_** _doing here?_  Cullen could see the stunned question in her brown eyes.

“My lady, it is good to see you again as well.” Was that the correct form of address? He wasn’t sure. He knew he couldn’t call her mage Amell as he used to at least. That would give Josephine a heart attack. “I have left the templars and joined the Inquisition shortly after the mage rebellion in Kirkwall.” At least he didn’t stutter like a green recruit.

Her eyes roamed over him swiftly, her piercing gaze seemingly looking straight through him. Cullen realized she was looking for something in him – although he was not sure exactly what. But he opened himself up to her inspection, knowing that she deserved to know whatever it was she sought. Considering how he behaved during their last meeting, Cullen wouldn’t have objected even if Solona decided to set him on fire. After a moment of tense evaluation, Solona seemed satisfied.

“Please excuse us, for we have traveled for far too long with far too little rest.” Solona smiled prettily. “And my apologies for barging in unannounced – we were simply too excited to see Leliana after such a long time. We will make ourselves comfortable.” She turned back to the Spymaster. “Leliana, come find us as soon as you’re done here.” With a small wave, she turned and left the war room, taking the elf and the dog with her, leaving them all in confused silence. It was as if a storm had swept through.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Version. Here is the [link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4163601/chapters/27441195) for the remastered Second Chance for Him story.

The meeting was over quickly after Solona left – Leliana was clearly eager to be done with it – and Cullen left the room feeling worried. From Solona’s shocked expression, Cullen could tell that Leliana hadn’t mentioned him in her letter. Cullen didn’t know if he should be thankful for that. As he passed Josephine’s office, his eyes fell to the mabari sitting on his haunches. Its intelligent eyes were focused onto him.

“Barkspawn! Were you waiting for me?” Cullen turned to see Leliana stepping lightly up behind him, her soft voice practically purring at the magnificent beast. The dog gave her an affirmative bark, and wagged its tail. “Alright then, lead on! Where did those two go?” Leliana laughed, but the dog didn’t budge. Barkspawn was still pointedly looking at him. “I think,” Leliana said, noticing the dog’s attention. “That he wants you to follow him too.”

“Me? What could he possibly want me for?” Leliana shrugged. “Solona probably told him to bring us both. You might as well follow willing now – Barkspawn will follow you to the Black Sea and drag you back if need be. You know how loyal mabari are.” The dog gave another affirmative bark, and Cullen sighed. Might as well get this over with now. Following the dog – Barkspawn?  _Really?_  – Cullen left the main hall with Leliana. The mabari eventually led them to the abandoned room filled with rubble, broken bed, and chairs. Solona and Zevran were sitting together on the bed, a bottle held in each one’s hand. Hawke and Varric was sitting on dusty chairs facing them. She had let her hair down – and Cullen realized that it was much shorter than it had been during her time at the Circle. Her wavy hair only reached to her shoulders.

They all turned to look as Cullen closed the door behind him. “Ah, the meeting is finally over then?” Hawke slurred out. Solona stood and crossed the room swiftly, once again embracing the Spymaster warmly. Zevran motioned for Cullen to sit in another chair next to Hawke. “Commander Cullen! Come, join us. We have excellent selection here – my dear Grey Warden is truly gifted at finding fine liquor. I myself prefer the Antivan Sip-Sip.” Zevran shook the bottle he was holding, and smiled. Hawke pushed a different one into his hand. “I think that one was called Butterbile from 7:84. Where she found it, I don’t want to know.” Hawke drawled. “I’ve already claimed the Aqua Magus.” Varric grinned and held up his own bottle. “I wanted to know how Dragon Piss tasted like. Not half bad, actually.”

Solona was leading Leliana back to the bed, sitting her down next to herself. She passed Flames of Our Lady to the woman – where did she find all these liquor? – and picked up her own bottle. Her cheeks were flushed in lovely shade of pink. Barkspawn settled himself by her feet.

“Shall we get down to business?” Solona smirked as she took a long sip, leaning slightly against the elf for support. Cullen glanced down at the bottle he was holding – his hand was gripping it so tightly that it was a wonder the bottle didn’t shatter – and struggled to keep calm. Maker, she was right  _there_. As if there wasn’t a decade long gap between them.

“Business.” Cullen echoed, his voice rougher than he meant. Hawke and Varric snorted, disgusted at the prospect.

“Actually, shouldn’t you be resting?” Leliana asked, placing her hand on Solona’s thigh. “You’ve been traveling hard, haven’t you? You look completely exhausted.” The dog whined softly.

“Oh Leliana, you have no idea. It has been _months_  since we’ve been able to relax so.” Zevran complained, holding Solona with one arm. “My Warden is such a hard taskmaster, no?  _Months_  since we’ve had a chance to sit down and take a sip of fine wine.” The way the elf said ‘my warden’ picked at Cullen’s attention. The way the slender elf’s velvety voice caressed those words made it clear to anybody with half a brain that he was truly saying ‘my love’. Cullen took a long swig from the bottle he was holding.

“Shush, you knew it would be hard travel when you decided to follow me.” Solona patted him, and looked over at Cullen. “I truly did not expect you to be here, Commander. Thank you for sparing the time to come talk to me with my friends. I am in desperate need to be updated on current situations.” Cullen tried not to be disappointed at her perfectly professional manner. _I should be grateful she didn’t attack me on sight_ , he berated himself. “It is no problem. May I ask how I should address you? I am quite uncertain, considering the numbers of title you hold.” Cullen was proud of how his voice held steady, mirroring her professional manners. Hawke snickered.

“You can call me Solona for now. Since as far as the Inquisition is concerned, I am currently not here, there is no need to call me by title. Later on though, you can call me Warden General.” Solona shot her cousin an irritated look. “Zevran and I have arrived ahead of schedule to have a chance to find out about what has been happening. Care to inform me?”

They all filled in Solona and Zevran over the hour. She often stopped them to ask her questions, trying to understand the disaster the world has fallen into while she was absent. Hawke and Varric started off - explaining the details of the events that transpired at Kirkwall. Then while Leliana provided her with the information on the events that have transpired, Cullen provided her with the military presence of Inquisition in Thedas trying to bring stability to the land. The candles burned lower and more liquor was consumed as the evening progressed. Finally, Solona nodded her head in satisfaction. “I believe that should be enough for tonight – good to see you’re stuck in the middle of this mess Leliana. You have knack for getting caught up in major catastrophes, don’t you?” She grinned widely at her friend. “But truly, a hole in the sky? You should consider getting a hobby that is less lethal.”

Zevran snorted amusedly. “Ah, my dear Warden. Perhaps you should listen to your own advice. It has been ten long years since we’ve had a full week where no one’s tried to kill us. Truly, I’ve been keeping track. Over a decade!” Solona laughed out loud at that, her musical voice ringing like a bell. She didn’t hold back when she laughed, the way the nobles such as Trevelyan did. She laughed with pure delight, her joy lighting up everything around her.

“Oh Zev, you know that’s why you follow me around everywhere. There’s excitement no matter where I go.” Solona winked at the elf, and picked up another bottle. “Now that the grim business is out of the way, shall we enjoy ourselves?” Her deep eyes held a mischievous glint that made him swallow hard.

“If you will excuse me Lady Amell, I must return to my duties.” Cullen made to stand, but the dog was suddenly pressing down on top of him, keeping him still. Solona’s eyes slowly swept over him, going over every inch of his body. Cullen couldn’t help the light shivers that ran through his body under her sharp gaze. “I’m sorry Commander, but it seems Barkspawn is enjoying your company too much. We won’t be here for long – Zevran and I are quite exhausted and will retire soon. Please indulge us for a little while longer.” Barkspawn didn’t move off of him until Cullen nodded.

True to her words, Zevran and Solona did not stay for long. After listening to Varric and Hawke’s few short, wild tales they both excused themselves to go rest. Looking at the slumped shoulders and the lethargic movements, Cullen could tell that they were both weary. As the small gathering broke, Cullen pulled the unfamiliar elf to the side quickly earning a quizzical look.

“Is there something I can help you with, Commander?” The elf’s voice and his wiggling eyebrows were somehow so  _very_  suggestive, despite the fatigue present on his face. Cullen fought the heat that crept up to his cheeks.

“Ser Arainai.” He started, determined to get the words out while he had the chance. The elf simply waived his hand. “Zevran will do. There is no need for formality. It helps to lessen the distance.” Maker, how did he manage to sound so…  _salacious_  no matter what he said?

“Zevran, then. I wished to thank you for stopping me earlier in the war room today.” Cullen knew he would have drawn his sword at Solona if Zevran hadn’t stopped him. He grimaced at the thought, dreading the prospect. “You do not know what a huge favor you have done for me. Thank you.” Zevran stared him for a moment thoughtfully before nodding, accepting his gratitude. He looked as if he wanted to say something but then decided against it. And then they were gone, retiring for the remainder of the day. Cullen slowly trudged back to his own office, his mind never quite leaving the Warden.

 

*******

 

He didn’t see Solona again until the day after. Despite that, her physical presence within the Skyhold distracted him to no end. He was just glad Skyhold wasn’t aware of Solona’s early arrival – Josephine and Leliana were already teasing him plenty. By the time he finally managed to wrench his mind back to work, it was hours after sundown. And then a quiet knock sounded on his door.

“Enter.” Cullen called out, his eyes still on the map, assuming it was his messenger. It was too late to be soldiers passing through his office. “Do you have the report on the supply routes for Adamant yet?”

“No ser. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a while longer.” Her amused voice makes Cullen nearly jump out of his skin.

“Solona! I didn’t… I wasn’t… I mean, what are you doing here?” His eyes finds hers immediately, so familiar to him. Too familiar.

“I was wondering if you had a moment to talk. I didn’t want to disturb you so late at night, but you were surrounded by soldiers all throughout the day.” Cullen just stared at her blankly. Solona Amell was  _in his office._

“I have to leave soon to meet up with Oghren and others, and I wanted to… clear some things out between us before I was announced to the Inquisition formally.” Wincing, Cullen nodded.

“May we go somewhere more private? I’d rather not get caught by your messengers.”

“Right, of course.” Moving slowly, Cullen led her out to the room above the taverns. It was still filled with rubble, but nobody would disturb them there. Solona leaned heavily against the wall before looking over to him and smiled.

“Apologies for coming by so late – I would have come sooner, but I’m still recovering from the hard travel. I must admit I spent the better part of the day in bed.”

"Is that why your magic feels so… off?” Cullen struggled with the words, hoping not to offend her. “You feel powerful, but somehow not complete.”

Solona didn’t bother hiding her surprise. “You can tell? Well, you always were an excellent templar.” Cullen didn’t mention it was only her magic that he was so attuned to.

“I was far away. Really far away. I left before the mage rebellion in Kirkwall, you know. I used up most of my mana to get back so quickly. Zev and Barkspawn clearly didn’t enjoy the trip back. I have gained an unusually large mana capacity compared to other mages over the years, but still. It was difficult. My mana is still only at about quarter of its usual size.” Cullen’s mouth fell open at that.

“ _Quarter_? You’re practically radiating magic, it’s a wonder my templars didn’t notice!” Solona looked amused.

“Why do you think you didn’t notice when I walked in to your office? I would be a poor Warden indeed if I didn’t know how to hide myself. But this is not what we are here to talk about.” Cullen felt himself stiffen, wary of the powerful mage standing before him. One he had treated with unfair contempt. He couldn’t meet her eyes.

“Cullen.” Solona moved to stand right in front of him. She was so close. “I am sorry.”  _What?_  Cullen looked at her in bewilderment. “What could you possibly be sorry for?” Her hand came up his face, hesitant. Momentarily, he saw the young shy girl back in the Circle.

“Ten years ago, when I… found you. In the tower. I didn’t treat you fairly.” Dumbfounded at the way the conversation was moving, Cullen simply stared. “You were delusional, tortured for days. And I threw my anger at you. I should have handled it better, for Maker’s sake, you were tortured! You had every right to be angry at the mages. But I was too young, and I didn’t.” Her hand was warm on his, her eyes brimming with tears as she looked up to him. “I am sorry, Cullen. I am so sorry.”

Slowly, his hand came up to her soft cheek. Mirroring her, Cullen cupped her small face with his hand. Her face was inches away from his face, her warm breath washing over him. “Solona,  _I_  should be the one apologizing. I said horrible things to you back then that you did not deserve. The anger blinded me, and I lashed out at you. It was unworthy of me. I hope… I hope you can forgive me. Maker knows I don’t deserve it, but I am sorry. I wanted to tell you for a long time how sorry I was.” His thumb stroked her cheeks, his fingers brushing against her sharp jaw. He looked into her eyes with every ounce of sincerity he could muster. He was never good with words, and he willed for her to see the apology he yearned to give her.

Solona smiled so brilliantly, Cullen was dazzled. Laughing, she hugged him tightly. “Of course I forgive you! I forgave you years ago.” Awkwardly, Cullen patted her back. “And Cullen, thank you. Thank you for surviving. Thank you for living through that nightmare. I don’t think I would have made it through the Blight if you have died.” She sounded muffled, with her face buried in his furred pauldron.

At that, Cullen couldn’t help himself anymore. Throwing his reservation to the wind, his arms wrapped around her, crushing her into his body in a desperate embrace. She molded into him, fitting perfectly. “Solona, Solona.” He chanted her name, slightly broken by sobs that threatened to break through. “I’ve missed you. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you. For ten long years.” He buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her citric scent. She was so warm, so soft. For the first time, Cullen felt her hair rubbing into his face. It was thick and silky. Her familiar magic sang to him, confirming that she was there, and she was  _real_.

They stood in silence for a long time, holding each other in a tight embrace in the darkness. Cullen savored every second of it until she broke apart, gasping “Cullen, I need to  _breathe!_ ” Chuckling, he loosened his grip on her slightly and smirked. He felt so happy and playful. How she managed to bring out such emotions from him so easily, he would never know. He ruffled her hair as she panted, trying to catch her breath and laughed when she shot him an irritated look.

Maker, he felt so  _free!_  The worry and guilt Cullen had carried for years were gone. Simply melted away in her easy acceptance of him. Cullen felt giddy with relief, and recognized the same in the exultant look her soft eyes gave him. She gently disentangled from him.

“I need to go, Cullen. My men are waiting for me. We can catch up after I ‘arrive’ at Skyhold.” Reluctantly he let her step away from him, his fingers lingering for a moment too long on her hand. Noticing, she gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“I’ll see you again later today, Cullen.” And she was gone. Despite the traces of her magic left in the air plucking at his senses, Cullen felt as if he had dreamed up the entire encounter. Shaking his head, he headed back to his office.

For the first time in a decade, he did not wake up screaming when the morning came.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Version. Here is the [link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4163601/chapters/27441195) for the remastered Second Chance for Him story.

It was midday when the bells tolled, announcing the small approaching group. Cullen knew it would be her without needing to look so he sent Jim to look for Rylen and Barris. His captains arrived promptly just as the messenger from Josephine walked through his other door.

“Commander, a small party was sighted approaching the Skyhold flying the Grey Warden and Amaranthine banners. Ambassador Montilyet requests your presence in the Great Hall to greet the Hero of Ferelden, ser.” Cullen nodded, and the messenger departed hastily. He looked to his captains. “You two are to escort the Hero of Ferelden to the Great Hall after they arrive.” They saluted before heading out. Cullen caught the nervous glances they cast each other and couldn’t blame them. Anybody would be nervous to meet the legendary woman who ended the Fifth Blight.

Cullen strode over to the Great Hall, passing through the rotunda. He idly noted that Solas and Dorian weren’t present in their usual perches. He saw them quickly enough – the entire Skyhold seemed to be present in the Great Hall, eager to lay their eyes on the famed Hero. Wondering how the Hall hasn’t burst with the number of people squeezed in it, Cullen moved to the Inquisitor’s throne. Jane Trevelyan was sitting on the said throne looking regal, with her advisors standing to each side. He took his place next to Cassandra and waited for her to arrive. His eyes swept around the Great Hall, and realized that all the nobles usually milling about were standing at attention for once.

Rylen and Barris led her small group into the Great Hall through the main doors, and Cullen couldn’t hide the sharp gasp at the sight. The woman walking in to the keep was not the same woman he had seen the night before. Nor was she the same mage from the Ferelden Circle he had harbored an infatuation for a decade ago.

She stood proud, striding forward with confidence and power that none living could hope to match. All her physical features were still the same – the lustrous black hair, slender figure, and of course her magic which sang in harmony with the lyrium in his blood. But the Solona Amell he knew ended there.

Her eyes were sharp and calculating – sweeping through the Great Hall quickly. She walked with ease and grace of a predator. Her face was hauntingly beautiful as usual, more so than the bards could ever hope to do it justice. And yet today her beauty was sharp, akin to a coiled whip ready to strike. He realized it was the steely mask she pulled on to fit her role as the Hero of Ferelden. And what a mask it was.

Clad in blue Grey Warden light armor, she announced to the world that she was a free mage in service of helping people. Her powerful magic was rolling off of her, and Cullen felt certain even non-mages and non-templars could feel her magical talent. As it was, from the looks of his templar captains they were in awe of her magical potential. _And she said she was at quarter of her full power._

Her face was set in a polite smile that somehow hardened her. Watching her walking up to the throne, Cullen finally linked her with the woman Josephine had described in the War Room – a legendary figure holding immense power. A woman who could shake entire Thedas to its foundation if she willed it. She _commanded_ respect and obedience from those around her with her presence. Maker, had he really hugged her the night before? She was so intimidating.

When the procession came to a stop in front of the throne, his two captains saluted smartly. One of Josephine’s diplomats was standing nearby, and cleared his throat before speaking.

“Presenting: Lady Solona Amell, First Warden of the Grey Wardens. Arlessa of Amaranthine, the Champion of Redcliffe, and the First Enchanter of Ferelden Circle.” The poor man paused quickly to take a breath before continuing. “Founder of Sacred Ashes, Vanquisher of the Fifth Blight, Slayer of archdemon Urthemiel the Dragon of Beauty, the Hero of Ferelden.” Solona stood patiently as the man rattled off her many titles.

“Accompanying her, the Senior Warden of Ferelden Ser Oghren and Ser Zevran Arainai, Antivan Crow and an Oathsworn to the First Warden.” The three took a bow in turn, and the man was now announcing the Inquisition members.

“Presenting: Lady Inquisitor Jane Trevelyan, daughter of Bann Trevelyan of Ostwick. The Herald of Andraste.” The Inquisitor inclined her head atop her throne. Josephine looked worried at such a simple greeting.

“Lady Josephine Montilyet, chief diplomat and ambassador of the Inquisition.” Josephine took a sweeping bow, perfectly executed.

“Sister Leliana Nightingale, Left Hand of former Divine Justinia.” Leliana inclined her head as well, and sent Solona a familiar smile.

“Lady Seeker Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast, the Hero of Orlais, and the Right Hand of the former Divine Justinia.” Cassandra grimaced at her full name before also taking a bow.

“Commander Cullen Stanton Rutherfold, Leader of the Inquisition’s forces. Former Knight-Commander of Kirkwall.” Cullen saluted.

“It is an honor, your worship.” Solona smiled politely. “And lady Montilyet, Seeker Pentaghast. What a pleasure to make your lovely acquaintances.” Solona turned to look at Leliana, and Cullen noticed that her iron clad professionalism softened for a moment. “Leliana, my old friend. It is lovely to see you again. Beautiful as always I see.”

“And Commander Cullen, what a pleasant surprise. The past decade has truly favored you.” The crowd whispered fervently at her comment. Not many knew of his connection to her – Cullen thought he could hear Bull and Dorian snicker somewhere.

“It is my pleasure to see you again as well, my lady. The years past have been kind to you as well.” Josephine sent him an approving look as Solona motioned towards one of her men.

“This is guard captain Aidan of Amaranthine, tasked with bringing me safely to Skyhold. Would someone please help him settle his men in?” Cullen motioned at Barris. “Of course, Warden General. Barris, see to it at once.” The man saluted and led the guards away.

“You must be tired from the travel as well. Would you like to retire to your quarters my lady?” Solona smiled at the worrying ambassador.

“Thank you, lady Montilyet. But I would like to begin the discussion of our alliance at once if possible. With the grave news you have delivered to my attention, I fear we haven’t a moment to lose.”

“Of course. Come, I am sure we can come to an agreeable arrangement.” The Inquisitor stood and led their distinguished guest to the war room. As Cullen followed, he noticed the huge crowd in the Hall erupting into whispers and sighed.

 

*******

 

“You aren’t willing to give us your men? We are fighting Corypheus, the very first darkspawn!” Josephine winced at the exasperated Inquisitor’s voice. Solona was standing across the table from the Inquisitor – her arms folded in front of her. Zevran was leaning casually against the door behind her, his hands playing with a small glinting dagger. Oghren was looking at the map on the table, studying it with interest.

“I am well aware of your enemy, Inquisitor.” Solona’s voice betrayed no emotions. “And according to the reports Warden Stroud sent, Corypheus is somehow binding the Warden Mages to himself, is he not? I will not risk my men before I know for certain they are safe from such bindings.”

“The Warden warriors are safe from him!” Solona again shook her head at the Inquisitor.

“No. My cousin Hawke said he encountered Corypheus before. He said that Corypheus somehow used his connection to the Blight to control the Wardens then. And I can already feel his effects. I can hear the Calling. Until we know more for certain, the only Wardens that will stay here will be Oghren and myself.” Inquisitor was about to protest when Cullen cut in.

“Could you explain the Calling to us in more detail? Warden Blackwall did not tell us exactly what it entails.”

“And under normal circumstances, I would not tell you either. But the situation calls for extreme measures I suppose. Calling signals the end of a Warden’s life. Dark whispers, a corrupt song that grows until it drowns out every thought from one’s mind. Once the Calling comes, all Wardens make a journey to the Deep Roads to meet their death fighting the darkspawns before the taint overtakes the body. Either we seek them out… or they seek us out. We are connected by the taint, and the Wardens will die at the hands of darkspawn.” Her eyes steeled as she gazed at the Inquisition members. “I trust this information will not leave this room.”

“And you’re feeling the Calling now? Will you go to the Deep Roads once this matter is resolved?” Leliana’s worried voice echoed hollowly in him. Will he lose her again so soon? Cullen didn’t think he could bear it.

“No, I believe this Calling is a false one as Warden Stroud has guessed.” Cullen let out a sigh of relief. “The Calling is supposed to bring on nightmares much worse than usual, and yet I have not noticed increase in the horror of my nightmares. And neither has Oghren. And the Wardens in Ferelden are not experiencing this onset of Calling. It wasn’t until we were so close to Orlais that we started to experience it. But still, until we verify that there is no lasting effects of this fake Calling I will not submit my men to this torture.”

“Then what can you offer us in this alliance?” Inquisitor’s tone clearly indicated her annoyance.

“I can however give you soldiers that are not Grey Wardens. I have many nobles sworn to me in service, and I can convince the nobles of Amaranthine to send soldiers to help the Inquisition. I will also send money, food, and mounts from Amaranthine. You will have full support from myself as the Arlessa of Amaranthine.” Josephine’s face lit up at that, but Solona wasn’t done. “I can also help the Inquisition procure lyrium from the dwarves at price much lower than what you are paying right now. King Bhelen owes me much, and this cause is directly in line with the Warden’s Oaths. I am sure he will be happy to help. And with my influence over the Ferelden court, I can convince other nobles to support the Inquisition. Will this be acceptable?”

“You are too generous, my lady.” Josephine beamed. “This is more than the Inquisition hoped for.” Solona shrugged lightly as Oghren barked out a laugh. “In return, Inquisition will allow Grey Wardens to operate as needed from Skyhold if it is deemed safe in the future. And we will share all resources and information regarding Corypheus with you.” Solona nodded, looking thoughtful. “Please pull up a draft of the terms, and we can go over it in more detail once that is done. How is the preparation for the siege of Adamant coming along?”

“The trebuchets and siege equipment is set to arrive within the two days’ time. Warden Stroud’s report suggests that there is a Fade Rift opened up within the fortress, so the Inquisitor will be accompanying the army. We are set to march in four days.” Solona seemed satisfied.

“I found the map of Adamant. There are choke points we can use to limit the battle. Inquisition can carve you a path to Warden Commander Clarel.” Leliana offered.

“Good. Hopefully I can reach her before she binds herself to Corypheus. Before the attack, I would also like to address the Orlesian Grey Wardens. I should be able to order the warriors to stand down, decrease the unnecessary bloodshed.” Solona finally looked up from the map. “Who is going to be coming with me into Adamant?”

“Hawke said he was willing to follow you as I’m sure you know. And the Inquisitor will accompany you as well, since there is a Fade Rift to consider.” Cullen answered as Trevelyan paled at the prospect. “Warden Stroud will meet you inside the fortress. Seeker Cassandra, Lady Vivienne, and Warden Blackwall will also go with you for added protection for the Inquisitor.”

“Leliana, will you show me the map and the choke points? And Commander, please update me on the Inquisition forces number, experience, and battle plan. Zev come look at this if you plan on tagging along.” With a swagger, Zevran came up to the table to peer down at the map and whistled. “This is going to be as bad as Fort Drakon was, my dear Warden.”

She grumbled. “Yes, thank you for that wonderful reminder.” Zevran just chuckled. From there on, the meeting was filled with battle plans and unit placements around Adamant. Inquisitor seemed bored throughout the entire thing – a stark contrast to Solona, and Josephine excused herself from the meeting, unable to help them plan. By the time the meeting was over, Cullen couldn’t help but be impressed with Solona. She was an excellent war commander.

 

*******

 

“Commander, the guards from Amaranthine have been given temporary quarters.” Cullen nodded as he moved into his office. Rylen and Barris evidently have been waiting for him. And Dorian and Bull was there too. Maker, this was going to be awkward.

“You knew the Hero Ferelden before? Personally?” Rhys sounded excited, and Cullen raised his eyebrows.

“Come on, Commander. Don’t hold back the juicy gossip. She evidently knows you well enough to recognize you after a decade! What’s the story?” Dorian practically purred at him. Cullen sighed, knowing he wouldn’t get any work done before they dragged some sort of story out of him.

“First Warden Amell is a special woman. Never met her like again. That’s all that needs to be said.”

“Boss, there’s a tale there you aren’t telling! Come on, if you knew her from the Circle you must have some good stories to tell! Nobody knows about her time in the Circle!” Bull complained, and to his frustration other three men nodded eagerly.

“First Warden was a mage at Ferelden Circle before she was conscripted, as you well know. Ferelden Circle was my first post, and she happened to be my very first charge back then.” They all hung on to his every words, eyes shining. “I attended her Harrowing. She noticed I was the one assigned to strike her down had she failed. Of course, it was the quickest and cleanest Harrowing the Circle ever saw.” The men continued to stare at him expectantly. Annoyed, Cullen raised his voice.

“There’s nothing to tell! She was my charge when I was barely eighteen. And as she said, it was over a decade ago.”

“But Commander, you said you were assigned the task of striking her down?” Rylen asked slyly. Cullen just grunted in reply. “That is strange. A templar usually don’t attend their charges’ Harrowing, let alone be assigned that task.” Barris raised his eyebrows.

“The Knight-Commander Gregoir assigned me. I wasn’t going to question my orders.” Cullen knew Gregoir was reminding him of his duties as a Templar. He wasn’t about to let these lot know about that though. Sadly, with their mage-templar background they already seemed to have figured out. Rylen was all but grinning at him.

“Solona went through her Harrowing when she was sixteen. She was a powerful mage and they wanted her to go through the Harrowing early – they probably thought having me there would make her more comfortable.” Cullen hoped that would satisfy them. It didn’t.

“Solona, is it Commander?” Dorian bit into his little slip. “Not the First Warden, or lady Amell?”

“Oh, for Maker’s sake, what do you want?” Cullen fought the blush that crept up to his cheeks.

“But sixteen? That _is_ really young.” Rylen mused. “She must have been truly powerful. As it was, I don’t think I’ve ever met a mage that powerful before today.” Dorian huffed indignantly.

“You think you could beat her?” Bull asked the mage, curious. Cullen laughed. “Dorian, if you think you stand a chance against her, you’re a fool.”

“Is that your assessment as a Templar? Or as her personal acquaintance?” Rylen suggested with a knowing grin, and Cullen looked away. Barris was smiling too.

“Maker’s breath. Are you all satisfied yet? We have work to do.”

“Actually, how was she in the Circle, Commander? Not much about her is known besides her conquests. What kind of mage was she?” Barris sounded innocently curios. Sighing, Cullen relented.

“Amell was dedicated to her study. She spent hours in the libraries, reading and researching. She often fell asleep in her chair with a book spread across her legs. She also had no problem practicing magic that should have been beyond her when she was so young. She excelled in both combat and healing magic.” Cullen mused as he remembered the hours he spent watching her. The sight of her had been both comforting and exciting. “She was kind, well-liked by many. First Enchanter Irving just adored her. A little shy at times, but she would help anybody and everybody. She didn’t mind talking to the Templars as well. In fact, she was probably the most favored mage among the Templars at Ferelden Circle. Even Knight-Commander Gregoir was lenient when it came to her.” Probably why she manage to sneak into the phylactery storage, Cullen thought silently.

“She didn’t specialize in one branch of magic. In fact, I remember her mentors were amazed at how many different schools of magic she excelled in. They were all wondering which branch she would eventually choose to pursue before she was conscripted into the Grey Wardens. I don’t know what she practices now, though I assume it to be combat magic.”

The four men standing about him didn’t say a word when he finished. “What, no teasing? No jibes?” Cullen asked, appalled at the silence.

“Boss… you don’t know what kind of face you make when you talk about her, do you?” Bull asked quietly.

“Why? What do you mean?” He didn’t look any different, did he?

“You seemed peaceful just now, Commander. More so than I have ever seen you. Serene.” Rylen’s voice had lost the light bantering tone. Cullen shrugged. “It was a time before the first mage rebellion I experienced. Most of my good memories are of watching her study.”

“If you truly believe that’s all there is, you’re a fool Commander.” Dorian looked at him like he was mad.

“She also saved my life when she put down the mage rebellion at the Circle during the Blight. And that’s the end of my connection with her.” Cullen waved for them to get out. He felt that he had suffered through their prying enough for now. “Now get out. We have tons to do before we leave for Adamant.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Version. Here is the [link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4163601/chapters/27441195) for the remastered Second Chance for Him story.

The knowledge of his personal connection spread like wildfire throughout Skyhold. Truly, people did nothing but gossip even in the face of world ending disasters looming over them. Over the three days before they left for Adamant, Cullen suffered through men and servants that threw him a knowing grin every time Solona was mentioned.

And she was the only topic that people talked about at Skyhold. Her beauty was praised with all the words known to men, and her every notable achievements told and retold again at every corner of Skyhold. And Solona came by often to his office.

They were necessary, professional visits of course – with the siege of Adamant looming over them, both Cullen and Solona were busy from dawn till dusk. She worked with him with the positioning of men around Adamant and of numbers, and the discussion of eventual arrival of soldiers she was providing. But Rylen and Barris gave him a pointed stare every time she wasn’t looking, and his soldiers eventually caught on to their captains.

Cullen wanted to strangle the two smirking captains. Or throw them over the battlements. If it wasn’t for Solona smiling gently in his office sharing light bantering with them, he probably would have.

 

*******

 

“Warden General, what is your mount exactly?” Cullen couldn’t take his eyes off of the magnificent beast. It was as if she was riding lightening and starlight. Solona puffed proudly. “My horse? She truly is a beauty is she not? She is a Light-Torn Steed. It was remarkably hard to get my hands on her, but she was worth it.” The strange horse neighed.

“She never rides anything that is not exotic. Of course, considering how exotic my Warden is herself, I suppose it is only natural.” Zevran smirked as he rode alongside Solona on his own hart.

“And what are you riding, Zevran?” Cullen wondered where they got these fascinating mounts.

“Ah, you have fine tastes Commander. My lady here is a Tirashan Swiftwind. One of the finest harts.” Oghren grunted.

“By the sodding ancestors, would you ever shut up, elf? I am perfectly happy with my lizard – don’t know why you two felt the need to switch.” Cullen grimaced at the dracolisk the dwarf was riding.

“If you are nice to me, I’ll get you a splendid mount too.” Solona winked at him, and Cullen struggled to stay in his saddle. Maker, what that woman did to him…

“But to think I would see your blasted Templar…” Oghren grumbled deeply as he eyed Cullen, and he shifted uncomfortably. “Hmph. Sodding ancestors have a strange sense of humor, don’t they Solona?”

“Oghren, behave. I’m going to talk to Leliana.” Solona spurred her strange horse on, leaving Cullen alone with Oghren and Zevran. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“So, a Commander?” The dwarf eyed him while drinking out of his wineskin. “Last I heard, you were a templar, a crazy raving lunatic one at that. Well, you don’t seem like one now, but let me tell you something  _Commander_.” The dwarf turned around fully, forcing Cullen to face him. “You threaten Solona in any way, or you hurt her ever again like you apparently did during the Blight, and I will rip your fancy Commander arse to pieces, and throw the rest to darkspawn to feed on.” Cullen nearly blanched at the boiling anger he saw in the dwarf’s eyes, mirrored in Zevran as well. They were completely serious.

 “You have my word that I won’t attack her.” Cullen said quickly. Maker, these men have faced down an archdemon. He did not want them angry at himself. “I was not myself back then. She will have nothing to fear from me.” Zevran and Oghren’s cold eyes bore into him, a promise of pain evident in their gazes. He had never realized how protective they were of her. “Make one wrong move Commander, and you will regret you ever laid hands on her.” Zevran hissed.

“Are you all playing nice?” Her sudden voice made them start guiltily. Solona had ridden back to their little group while they were all distracted. Barkspawn yipped and wagged his tail

“Zev? Oghren? What have you two done now?” Solona’s eyes narrowed.

“Boss, hey. We were just, uh, chatting about the tower. Think I’ll go chat up Leliana. Been a while since I saw that fine piece of work.” Oghren grumbled before riding away.

“Zev.” Solona’s voice was lowered a pitch.

“Ah, dear Warden. We were simply reminiscing. Remembering the time I tried to kill you the first time actually. Such nice memories, no? I only wish Loghain had hired me sooner, to server under the whims of deadly sex goddess.”

“You’re deflecting, Zev.” Cullen watched curiously as the handsome elf looked away nervously. Maker, he would have never guessed anything could make the confident elf nervous.

“Cullen?” Solona shifted gaze to him. “No, it’s fine. Truly. They didn’t do anything.” They just threatened to kill me if I hurt you again. Which I am quite alright with, considering that I agree with their sentiment.

Solona didn’t seem to believe them, but left the matters alone. The rest of the march passed without event.

 

*******

 

Cullen watched as Solona pulled herself to full height in her stirrup. Gathering her magic, she somehow enhanced her voice to booming volume, clearly reaching the Wardens standing atop the Adamant battlements.

“Grey Wardens of Orlais, hear me! I am Solona Amell, the First Warden, Vanquisher of Fifth Blight and Slayer of archdemon Urthemiel.” Cullen could feel the words being forced out by her familiar pulsing magic.

“Some of you should recognize me! By the rights granted by my titles, I order you to stand down! Do not resist the Inquisition forces. Restrain the Warden Mages who have already performed the binding ritual of demons. Any who disobeys my order is to be detained if possible. If not, for the crime of defying the Commander during the time of war, they are to be executed. Open the gates for me to enter!”

The Inquisition soldiers nearby covered their ears.

The gates of Adamant Fortress creaked opened after a moment, and Cullen stared at it in shock. “Well, I didn’t think things would go this smoothly.” Solona muttered as she watched the Warden warriors obeying her orders.

“That, my dear Warden, is because you do not realize how intimidating you can be.” Zevran purred next to her. “Either way, the gates are open. And we managed to do so without any of the Inquisition’s blood spilled. This is turning out much better than we have anticipated.” Cullen quickly evaluated the situation.

“Go to Warden Commander Clarel as planned. I will secure the Warden Warriors and Adamant battlements. You must stop the rituals from being performed.” Solona gathered the reigns in her hands.

“I wish you luck, Commander. I shall see you after this mess is sorted out.”

But she did not return from the Fade with others.

 

*******

 

“What do you mean, she stayed behind?!” Leliana screamed at the small group that had just jumped through the Rift. Cullen was standing next to her, stunned into silence. Solona Amell was gone? Oghren and Zevran looked just about ready to fall on their own swords. “She ordered us to go. You know how she is, Leliana. And we are sworn to her service. Her word is law.” Zevran’s lifeless response only further enraged their Spymaster.

“Leliana. She wanted us to continue to serve. Sodding ancestors know I would be back there, spitting at that Nightmare right beside her. You know we would all be back there if we had the choice. But the Orlesian Wardens need to be sorted out. Stroud and I are the only Senior Wardens left in Orlais right now.”

“But we lost Solona!” Leliana sobbed, finally breaking down. Zevran embraced her tightly, his own eyes shedding tears. “How am I supposed to fight for a world without her in it?” Cullen realized it was his voice that whispered those words. Everything was numb. His mind, his body tried to reject the reality clawing its way up his body. The world turned slowly grey. She couldn’t be gone. She couldn’t. Leliana’s wail rose above all sounds in the bloody aftermath of the battle.

But Solona had wanted them to fight on. She sacrificed herself so the Inquisitor could close the Fade Rift, severing the connection between the demons and her Wardens. And Cullen would see her Wardens safe. Methodically, he worked with Oghren to organize the remaining Wardens to return to Skyhold with them. The binding spell was broken by Solona, and they were safe. He would do as she wished. Void take him if he let her sacrifice go wasted.

Everybody was safe. Except for her.

As Inquisition marched back to Skyhold, Cullen realized dimly that he had felt this pain before. When the mages returning from the battle at Ostagar informed them of the demise of all Ferelden Grey Wardens, he had nearly gone mad with grief.

But the anguish Cullen felt now did not compare to his pains back then. It had been a small youthful infatuation cut short by raging demons running rampant through the Circle Tower.

Now, it was massive crushing weight of despair that overwhelmed his entire being. He just didn’t have the capacity to handle such hurt. Cullen felt nothing besides the sorrow that was also reflected in her friends’ eyes. He noticed the pitying looks his men gave him when they thought he wasn’t looking – but couldn’t bring himself to care.

Leliana, Zevran, and Oghren didn’t fare any better than him. Barkspawn flat out gave up on living, as far as Cullen could see. There were no life in them, moving as corpses did, slow and lethargic. Grief weighed them down, threatening to drown them. They all often forgot to eat, food tasting like sand. The world was no longer filled with color. Cole flitted about constantly, worrying and sad that he couldn’t ease the hurt.

By the time Inquisition reached Skyhold, Cullen finally realized it.  _I loved Solona._

It wasn’t the young boy’s lingering fascination with a pretty mage in the Circle he had always thought was the case. No, the infatuation had somehow grown into something more passionate – in to love – while Cullen didn’t notice despite the torture the demons had put him through using her and a decade long gap. How did that happen?

He didn’t love the young mage Amell of the Circle. No, that was a small fling his youthful mind had enjoyed, seeing little beyond her magical powers and unparalleled beauty. But he loved the woman that small girl had grown into.

Cullen always downplayed the effect she had on him. He’d done so for the past decade without realizing himself. He thought himself simply the lucky templar who happened to have her as his charge, and nothing more. But that was only a lie he told himself.

Solona Amell was the woman who saved his life. The day she stormed through the Circle Tower, defeating countless demons, abominations, blood mages, and possessed templars that the entire Circle had failed to stand against, she had saved his life and his very sanity. Without her, he couldn’t exist as he did today.

And she was the woman who saved his country from the Blight. Alistair and Solona, two lone surviving Wardens in the entire country that persecuted them as traitors built an army to stand against the darkspawn horde. And how many could say they ended a civil war by their own hands? The tales of the Landsmeet called in the capital, and of her duel against treacherous Loghain were still told to this day with fervor.

He remembered how Solona had let her army, fierce determination lighting her eyes against the darkspawn in Denerim. Within that one year, she matured from shy young mage to a competent, imposing leader.

No, Cullen did not love mage Amell. Cullen loved Solona Amell, the most powerful, capable, loving, and caring woman he ever had the pleasure to meet. 

I loved her. Why did I realize that only after she is gone?

Cullen would never again feel her magic singing in the air, its soft touches brushing gently against his skin. Watch her smile as she helped the others in need willingly. Lead her men into battles to protect the weak. She was gone. Solona was dead.

And I still love her.

Maker, she was so young. It wasn’t her time to go.

He slammed his fist into the desk, startling his templar lieutenants. “Out.” He growled. They fled quickly.

She wasn’t even thirty yet. Far too young to have been ripped away from this world so violently. Left alone in the Fade, facing the Nightmare.

He felt a warm trickle of tear running down his face. He would never see her lovely smile again.

And with that, Cullen finally succumbed. He let his tears flow freely, strangled moan escaping his throat.

His love was dead.

 

*******

 

“By the Maker, how much can those Wardens eat?” Josephine exclaimed, looking at the notes she held in her arm. Leliana glanced at her, her sad eyes amused for first time in days.

“There weren’t many surviving Orlesian Grey Wardens, so I did not think it necessary to increase our supply of food. Clearly, I was wrong. There was a band of Wardens who raided the larder again last night. At this rate, all of Skyhold will be starving before the next shipment!”

“I understand it has something to do with the taint in their blood.” Leliana’s lilting voice explained. “Apparently their appetite, hunger of any kind is enhanced just like their physical abilities. I’m sorry Josie, I should have warned you earlier.”

“And why can’t we just toss them out of my keep?” The Inquisitor sounded angry. “They have been nothing but a menace for the Inquisition! They take our food, our resources, and are doing nothing but sitting at the tavern drinking themselves to death! This is of course discounting the demons summoning and blood magic they participated in!”

“They are mourning their leader’s loss, Inquisitor.” His voice was automatic. Cullen knew the Inquisitor did not understand the affect of such a huge loss was. Solona was a very personal commander, and her troops felt her death very deeply. And gathering from the reports of raided wine cellars, Zevran and Warden Oghren were determined to drink themselves to death as the Inquisitor suggested. The guilt of leaving her behind would be unbearable, indeed. Even he was drinking nightly nowadays, trying to take his mind off of his lost love.

“They have not done one thing for the Inquisition. Toss them out of Skyhold.” Inquisitor didn’t seem like she was going to back down though. “All Amell ever did while she was here was write few letters. Letters! All that pompous treatment and titles, and that’s all she had to offer!”

“It is true they haven’t been handling themselves with the best behavior, but throwing them out of Skyhold would be too much Inquisitor, after what the Order went through.” Cassandra tried to reason with the noblewoman, who just snorted in response.

“Inquisitor, do you know how many letters she wrote during her short stay here?” Leliana’s voice was icy. Even Cullen nearly flinched at the hostility burning in the Sister’s eyes. Inquisitor fearfully shook her head.

“Solona wrote exactly four letters while she was here.” Leliana leaned in slightly, and Inquisitor backed up quickly.

“And do you know what these four letters did for the Inquisition? No? Well, you should know. The first letter she wrote was to her Amaranthine city. So far we’ve received five dozen highly trained guardsmen and incredible monetary support from the merchants from the former capital of Ferelden.” Leliana sneered at the other redhead.

“Second letter was to King Alistair and his court in Denerim. Already most of the nobles have propositioned some sort of alliance with the Inquisition, at the behest of the Hero of Ferelden. King Alistair is also willing to send an army to aid us in our efforts of stabilizing the areas in his country. I must say this is already more than what you have managed to accomplish since being named the Inquisitor.” Her biting words made the woman flinch visibly.

“Third, she sent word to the court of Antiva. Considering the distance, it is remarkable that the Queen is already sending inquires regarding the Breach and the troubles caused by Corypheus and his Venatori mages. And fourth, she sent a missive to King Bhelen of Orzammar. Inquisition now has a steady source of lyrium from the dwarves paying only the fifth of their usual asking price. Our mage healers have saved many lives, and our templars breathe easier, sleep better with the best lyrium Thedas has to offer. The freed money allows Inquisition to purchase more weapons and armors for our soldiers, among countless other things that contribute to our cause.”

Leliana was now visibly shaking with her rage.

“Solona has done more for the Inquisition than any of the existing members while she stayed here for less than a week! And you would have us throw her men out, knowing that she sacrificed herself to keep them safe?” Her hands clenched into a fist. Cassandra finally stepped in front of the Spymaster, putting her hands on Leliana’s delicate shoulders. “That is enough, Leliana. The Wardens will stay at Skyhold as long as they need to. Won’t they, Inquisitor?” Trevelyan nodded furiously.

Leliana turned on her heels and marched out of the War Room, leaving the quivering woman far behind. Cullen sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the headache growing.

“Let us pick this up some another time.” He was in no mood to handle the Inquisitor. Following Leliana’s lead, Cullen turned and left the War Room as well.

 

*******

 

“Commander, the last of the Orlesian Grey Wardens have been given proper quarters.” Rylen stood at attention, looking uncertain. Cullen knew his men tried to avoid talking to him regarding the Wardens as much as possible. They weren’t successful of course – not when he was the Commander of Inquisition. 

“Well done. Mira, what are the conditions of the injured soldiers from the battle at Adamant?”

“Ser. The increased volume of lyrium we are receiving has helped the healers considerably. Most of the soldiers who survived will be ready to report to duty in a week’s time.” Cullen briefly closed his eyes. Solona saved so many lives, even when she was gone. Maker, he missed her.

“Barris?”

“Ser. We have identified the missing…” His office door flew open, and Inquisitor walked in.

“Inquisitor!” His men saluted. She barely glanced at them. “Commander, a word?” Andraste preserve me.

“Of course. We will continue this at a later time. Dismissed.” His lieutenants and captains filed out of his office. He noticed that Jim left the door slightly ajar, and rolled his eyes. No doubt his men would be straining to hear what Inquisitor wished to talk about behind the door, after that little spat on the battlements.

“Is there something I can help you with, Inquisitor?” She brought herself close to him. Too close for his comfort.

“Yes, Cullen.” Her voice purred at him. “I realize now that the last time I spoke to you of courting, you were unavailable due to a certain Warden. No doubt she seduced you while you were young.”

Maker, she couldn’t possibly be serious.

“And yet Lady Amell has passed on, valiantly sacrificing herself. Leaving you alone, free of her clutches.”

Maker, she was serious. “Of course you rejected me. You had to, didn’t you? Not while you were involved with her. You are too honorable. And I am sure after being seduced for ten long years, displeasing her did not come to you naturally. But nothing is stopping you now, and I am still willing to be courted, the proper way. Allow me to show you how things are done in nobles’ way. Unlike her, I will not take advantage of you.”

Andraste preserve him from this blighted woman.

“Inquisitor” His voice came out more as a low growl. He’s had enough. “Despite the rumors running rampant throughout Skyhold, I was not romantically involved with First Warden Amell. I never have been, despite my ill-advised infatuations with her. Warden Amell was professional, and offered me friendship while I deserved none. And you do her memories discredit with such accusations.” He took a breath, watching the Inquisitor’s face starting to flush red with anger.

“What I said on the battlement still stands. With all due respect, Inquisitor, I would rather swallow my own sword than to spend a second courting you.” Please get that through your thick skull this time.

The training dummy in his office burst into flames. Cullen just stared at her impassively, meeting her heated glare. Without another word, the woman turned and stormed out of his office, slamming his door shut behind her. Sighing, Cullen rubbed the back of his neck.

“I know you’re all hiding behind that door. Jim, get that fire on the training dummy put out. The rest of you, back to work!”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Version. Here is the [link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4163601/chapters/27441195) for the remastered Second Chance for Him story.

When the long tirade of messengers and reports trickled to a stop, Cullen finally dismissed his lieutenants. But few of his officers lingered behind in his office, throwing nervous glances at each other.

“Is there something you needed, Rylen?”

“Ser,” he coughed nervously. Barris didn’t meet his eyes either. If his captains were nervous, it could only be about one thing. Wardens.

“Maker, out with it!” He growled, ignoring the throbbing headaches.

“What they’re trying to say is, _I_ was there with them eavesdropping on your interesting conversation with the Inquisitor.” Hawke strode in through his door, throwing him a sly grin. “I couldn’t keep such an interesting development to myself of course. I immediately delivered the story to Varric. Entire Skyhold should know by now.”

Between his work and grief of losing Solona, Cullen couldn’t muster up the energy to yell at the mage. Sighing dejectedly, Cullen pulled out a bottle of scotch and poured himself a glass. “And?”

“ _And_ , my interest was caught when you admitted you had an infatuation with my fascinating cousin. You’ve always denied it vehemently before.” Hawke’s teasing voice lost its light tone for a moment on the word ‘cousin.’ But the mage seemed determined to continue.

Sighing, Cullen looked at his officers after downing the liquor. “Anything else that needs confessing?” The templars shook their head.

“Inform Jim that he is to be assigned to latrine duty for a week for that stunt he pulled earlier.” Cullen stared pointedly at his lieutenants. “And if any of you breathe a word about my private affairs again, you will be joining him no matter your rank.” They fled quickly.

Cullen refilled his glass. “Of course I denied my feelings for her. I was a templar, and she was a mage.” He grumbled out at the insufferable man. Suddenly, Hawke took the glass from his hand.

“Come with me. I got much better things for you to be drinking than this shite.” Exasperated, Cullen tried to take his drink back, but Hawke only danced out of the reach. “I didn’t think you the type for drinking on daily basis Cullen. You should hear what your men are saying about your newfound habit.”

“Hawke, I am in no mood for your inane meddling. Leave me alone.”

“And I meant it when I said you should follow me.” Hawke suddenly dropped all pretense of lightheartedness. “You’ll thank me later. Come on.” The man turned on his heel and left, and Cullen hesitated a moment before he followed Hawke.

His friend led him to the underground hall next to the wine cellars and the library. There were no chairs, but there was a fire burning in the center of the room, with people sitting comfortably around it on the floor. He recognized Barkspawn, Oghren, Zevran, Leliana, and Varric completely relaxed. The air was warm and thick with smell of liquor.

“I found him.” Hawke walked over next to Varric sat down heavily. “Now give me a bottle.”

Cullen hesitated, and Leliana noticed. “Cullen, sit down.”

Settling himself next to Barkspawn, Cullen was promptly handed a very fine wine. The dog whined when he petted it, but didn’t move.

“What exactly is this?” The wine was fantastic.

“You all have been drinking yourselves to the brink of death. I thought you might as well do it together, and share a tale or two while at it. Varric’s here to listen to all your tales and put it into a book. My cousin did have the most fantastic adventures.” Hawke shrugged. Oghren grunted. “At least it’s strong ale.” Zevran didn’t say anything as he drained his bottle. Cullen didn’t think he’s heard the elf speak since after coming out of the rift.

“Considering what a surly arse you all have been, I bet you guys didn’t hear about the spat the Commander had with Inquisitor earlier today.” Varric’s light comment somewhat drew the attention from the group.

“Oh, I heard it. I hear everything that goes on here.” Leliana’s soft voice didn’t have its usual teasing lilt. “Seems our Commander finally admitted to having feelings for Solona.” Even Zevran turned his eyes onto Cullen. Drinking heavily, Cullen didn’t mind the attention. There wasn’t any point in hiding his feelings any longer.

“I harbored feelings for her since I was eighteen. It was very ill-advised, considering I was a Templar and she was a mage in my charge. But that was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter now. It's not as if a revered mother would scold me for it.”

“And everyone loves Solona. Nobody was able to withstand her charm.” Hawke mused, drinking his own liquor.

“I hope Alistair is alright.” Leliana’s voice sounded worried.

Oghren grunted. “When he hears Solona’s dead, it will be a miracle if he doesn’t fall on his own sword. Boss was everything for that boy. By the sodding ancestors, he’s never even given his tool the old spit-shine before they went bucking the forbidden horse!”

Cullen choked.

“Ah yes, they were a fine pair, weren’t they? He was just so sweet on her.” Leliana sounded wistful. “He gave her everything and anything she wanted. It was his love that saved her life and soul at the end too.” She sighed.

“Solona and Alistair? So the rumors were true then?” Cullen had seen them together at the tower, but it was too soon after the demons to think about anything besides the dangers mages possessed.

“Oh yes. They were beautiful together. Something so loving amidst all the horror and corruption of the Blight. The last two surviving Wardens in the entire country. One a mage, other a templar. It inspired me.” Leliana’s eyes were dreamy, looking into the past.

“My Warden truly was innocent then. Those two couldn’t look at me without a flush.” Zevran chuckled, finally breaking out of his misery.

“And you completely corrupted them!” Leliana giggled. “You changed them thoroughly!” Barkspawn barked, chiming in.

“They needed to learn!” Zevran’s eyebrows danced. “My poor Warden wasn’t enjoying herself to the fullest. And so much potential too, with the enhanced Warden stamina. Both of them.”

Cullen’s cheeks burned hot, and as if drawn by the embarrassment, Zevran turned his attention on to him. “Ah Commander, I forget myself. You were a Templar once too. But since you’re older perhaps you are more experienced than Alistair was?”

“I don’t see how that is any of your business.” Cullen shot back, and Oghren chortled.

“But if Alistair and Solona were together, what about you?” He gestured mildly towards Zevran. “I got the impression that you two were, erm, lovers.” Cullen decided he had too much to drink. He drank more.

“That’s true. We were.” Zevran nodded simply. Leliana suddenly looked impossibly sad. “Oh Zev, don’t sell yourself short. You two were much more than that. Even fools could see you loved her more than anything in this world.” Cullen’s intoxicated mind spun with confusion.

“After Alistair became king, Solona couldn’t stay with him. Not officially.” Leliana explained. “Alistair still loves her, but he has his duties. They steal time together when they can, but eventually Alistair will be expected to take a queen and produce an heir.”

“Whereas I was bound by nothing but my Oath to her.” Zevran lifted his glass in a silent toast to that. “I was always with her. Her constant companion. I was content. No one else remained by her side as I did, and she accepted me for who I was.”

Cullen saw the love he felt for Solona reflected in Zevran’s eyes. The overwhelming, encompassing love that was his entire being. “I kept her safe, and she smiled at me. It was enough. But I failed her.” The elf’s eyes suddenly darkened. His voice miserable, Zevran crumpled.

Cullen considered Zevran. Their first meeting had left a clear impression on him. Strong agile elf, no doubt a deadly foe. He had never thought the man could look so… broken. But he supposed the guilt of leaving behind his love would be a crushing weight. Cullen felt his own anguish at the loss. He tried to imagine the elf’s pain. Leaving her behind, knowing she would die. After traveling and fighting together for a decade.

“We all failed her.” His broken voice came out unbidden. “I… It was my duty to keep her safe. If I have planned the siege better… Switched the tactics once the dragon showed up…” Zevran’s face searched his, and a sudden understanding dawned on the elf’s face. He let out a strangled laugh.

“That infatuation you admitted – there was more to it then? She was quite the heartbreaker, no? I see you were deeply ensnared in her deadly trap same as me, Commander.”

Identical self-deprecating smile played on both of their lips. “Hopeless mess, aren’t we?” Cullen smirked.

Hawke watched the two, amused. “You should have admitted you loved her earlier Cullen. She asked after you a lot. Whenever she was in Kirkwall she would go by the gallows to check on you without fail.”

His eyes widened in the surprise. He’d never noticed. Zevran nodded, smiling. “Oh every time. She always talked about you there. We would watch you standing about the Circle courtyard looking all grim and glowering for hours.”

“I never knew. I didn’t know a lot of things about her.” Cullen thought sadly.

“Would you tell me about her? How she traveled? How she saved the world?”

“Just try and stop us, son.” Oghren grumbled. “We plan to go over every little detail we remember about the boss.”

And for hours after, Cullen listened. He listened to Leliana remember how Solona found pretty shoes and Andraste’s Grace as presents for her. Gave her a pet nug. How Barkspawn imprinted on her, and of her legendary travels to all corners of Ferelden in time of the Blight.

Many knew the story, but listening it directly from her companions who fought beside her, the tales were wild and incredible. He laughed heartily as Zevran talked of the time when Solona tried to get Oghren laid with Felsi, and sighed with envy when they talked of finding the Sacred Ashes of Andraste. Varric furiously scribbled down notes for his book.

Cullen was struck by just how much of the rumors and stories were true. Such as werewolves. Maker! Cullen always thought it was wild stories embellished by fools and drunks.

“The statue in Honnleath? Maker, that statue was _alive?_ ” He still remembered that huge stone man – woman! – standing at the village center.

“Oh yes. She convinced Shale to come with us. So we had a golem for a companion.” Leliana laughed as he shook his head, unable to wrap his mind around it. That statue was huge! And it _walked off_ with Solona?

“Remember the time we met Isabella at the Pearl?” Zevran crowed. Varric looked startled.

“Isabella? As in the pirate Isabella that we know? Tall, sexy, has a thing for boats?”

“That’s the one!” Leliana chimed in. “Solona saw her fight in dueling style, which she never saw before. She wanted Isabella to teach her, but Isabella wanted to get to know her better.” She winked.

“Oh the fun we had in her ship that night. I believe t'was the first time I was invited to join in with Solona and Alistair. And Isabella always was one for trying new things.” Zevran sighed. “Wardens’ prowess is not exaggerated in the least, Commander.” He waggled his eyebrows, and Cullen couldn’t help but laugh, even as his cheeks flushed red. The longer they talked, the more Cullen could see how the elf had loved Solona.

Cullen could relate to him the most in the group. Leliana and Oghren loved her too, but not in the same way as he did. But Zevran and Cullen understood the pains each other felt, and took small comfort in the knowledge.

Stories wilder than even Hawke’s adventures flowed freely, laughter and tears mixing evenly as they all told the memories they each shared with Solona.

“… and so Sten got to keep all those cookies! I think Solona is still blackmailing him about that incident.” Leliana’s last story left them all gasping for breath. When he finally caught his, Cullen started.

“I’ve got one! It was when Solona was still an apprentice. She was the prettiest mage in the Circle, and many clamored to get her attention.” “Including you?” Hawke smirked. Smiling ruefully, Cullen nodded. “It was easier for me than the others, with her being my charge. Anyway, one day she is helping her mentor teach elemental magic to her class. The goal was to freeze the items they were assigned to. But Keith was paying more attention to Solona than his magic. So of course he struggles with the ice spell, and Solona head over to help the boy. And she helps him alright, because the moment she goes over and touches hand, Keith got so excited that his magic spiraled out of control. I Cleansed the area the moment I felt the spell being miscast, but the magic succeeded halfway.” Cullen chuckled at the memory. “Keith had frozen half of the mentor’s face along with his body. The enraged mage screamed at the boy, except half his face was still encased in ice!” The half raged, half still face was still visible in his mind’s eye. “Solona decided to take pity – I’m not sure on whom – and completely encased the mage in ice! Later, trying to thaw him, they accidentally set him on fire. That particular mage decided to never take on mentoring again as I understand it.”

“She froze him then set him on fire?” Laughter rang out from everywhere. “Bet she did it as a joke. She was a mischievous prankster at heart.” Said Oghren. “Like that time she stole Alistair’s breeches!”

“That’s right! Alistair was fighting around camp with no breeches on because of that!” Leliana laughed.

“What? The King of Ferelden fought with no breeches?” Hawke doubled back on himself, tears pooling in his eyes.

“My warden and Alistair had just gotten into their tent for the night when a group of bandits attacked. My warden was still fully dressed, but Alistair… he…” Zevran couldn’t continue over his laughter.

“He fought gallantly with his proud manhood in full display!” Leliana choked out the rest, heaving heavy breaths in effort to breathe. “I remember! Ha, the boy was red in his face for weeks!” Oghren pounded the floor. Varric looked as if he just found a pot of gold.

“But even Morrigan had to admit that he was… impressive.” Leliana giggled. Zevran chortled. “Oh, impressive indeed. That man was gifted.”

Shaking his head, Cullen laughed as hard as he could, wishing this moment would last forever. Surrounded by friends, laughing with their cherished memories of Solona being shared, Cullen took comfort in the knowledge that Solona was loved by many.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Version. Here is the [link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4163601/chapters/27441195) for the remastered Second Chance for Him story.

_Maker’s breath_. What a headache. Feels like Cassandra is splitting my head open with her sword. Cullen groaned, as he gulped down the ice cold water. He had indulged far too much last night in the company of Solona’s friends. Mira stood by him, looking equal parts concerned and amused. Glaring at his lieutenant, Cullen motioned for her to report.

“Ser. The relief effort in Hinterlands was proven effective. All refugees in the area are sufficiently warm and well fed. With the mage and templar war ended, the land is stable. Corporal Vale reports that half of the Inquisition forces present in Hinterlands are ready to march back to Skyhold.”

“Good. Give them the order to march.”

“Yes ser.” Mira saluted. “And Commander? If I may. You have fasted since yesterday ser. The midday meal should be available in the Hall. It should help with the hangover as well, Ser.”

“And why are you so certain I’m suffering from a hangover, Mira?” Cullen shot her a dark look, but she only grinned.

“That’s because I get plenty of them too, ser.” Sighing, dismissed her with a wave. She was right – he needed to eat. Trying to remember the last time he’d consumed something that wasn’t liquor, Cullen moved to walk towards the Hall, when his door swung open.

“Zevran? Is everything alright?” The elf stood in his doorway, looking slightly uncertain.

“Commander, you seem to have a habit of forgetting to eat. I brought some food from the Hall. Contrary to what my Warden believed, it is not possible for one to sustain one’s self with reports and work. Perhaps you would be so inclined to have a meal with me?”

“Of course.” Cullen moved to clear his table and chairs of books and reports. They were strewn all over his office as usual. Zevran walked in – without swagger, Cullen noted – and placed the tray full of food on a corner of his massive desk. He realized that it was full of Ferelden style food – his preferred choices piled high up. He lifted his eyebrows at the elf.

“Do not worry, I did not spy on you.” Zevran tried to sound amused. To Cullen’s ears, he just sounded tired. “My Warden spoke of you often. Enough for me to learn quite a bit about you.” Sitting down on a chair Cullen just cleared, Zevran picked up a small muffin.

“I have a question, if I may.”

“Of course. Go ahead.” Cullen nodded, as he picked up his favorite chocolate filled bread. He always had a soft spot for Ferelden sweets.

“It is quite clear that you loved my Warden.” Cullen started to protest, but the elf just shook his head, throwing him a pointed look. After a moment, he sighed and nodded.

“But I didn’t realize you did until last night. Have you always known?”

“No, I realized it after… you know. I always thought it was a lingering feeling from when we were young. I was infatuated with her when I was in the Circle, and for the longest time I thought that was all it ever was. Lingering thought for my young fascination with a pretty mage in my charge. But that wasn’t it. I fell in love with her. I don’t even know how, but I did.”

Zevran nodded, seeming to understand Cullen’s confusion. “She had such effects on people around her. I didn’t think I would find such a thing as love when I swore myself into her service either. But why did you have to thank me for stopping your sword in the War Room? Have you done so before?” Cullen bit into the pastry before answering.

“I don’t know how much she’s shared about me to you, but I assume you at least know about what happened to the Ferelden Circle?” Zevran nodded. “I was the sole Templar survivor of the mage rebellion there. I was tortured for days – by blood mages and desire demons.” Cullen noticed the elf wasn’t eating. “Zevran, you need to eat as much as I do. Eat, and I’ll talk.”

Zevran took a bite of the muffin he was holding, chewing slowly.

“When Solona finally found me, it was days after the blood mages got their hands on me. I was a furious raving lunatic by that point. I blamed the mages for everything, and especially her. I blamed her for leaving, for the mage rebellion, the demons, the tortures, even my friends’ deaths. We did not part on good terms.” Cullen stared pointedly until Zevran took another bite.

“It took me eleven years to overcome that irrational anger and fear. When Solona sent word that she would be coming to Skyhold – I was beside myself with excitement at the thought of meeting her. Of finally having the chance to apologize to her for such bitter words. Starting out with a sword pointed to her throat would have been disastrous.”

Zevran laughed, but there was little humor in that sound. “Truly, I doubt my Warden would have minded the sword part – it’s a very common occurrence. I meant it when I said it’d been ten years since we’ve had a week’s respite from someone wanting to kill us.” Zevran poured himself a glass of ale, and downed it. “But I thank you for answering me honestly. It is not an easy story to tell.”

“No. I’ve never told anyone what’s happened to me at the Circle. But you loved her as much as I. Perhaps more.”

Zevran poured another glass. “You’ve heard of me from the tales told, have you not? The handsome, deadly assassin of Hero of Ferelden.” Cullen nodded, finishing the pastry before picking up an omelet.

“My Warden saved my life, you know. I’m not just talking about in the battles, or sparing me when I tried to kill her. She saved me as a person. My entire life I was bound to the Antivan Crows. A pretty little thing in a gilded cage. She got me out. I bound myself to her with an Oath after I was free of the Crows. My Warden said it wasn’t necessary, but I insisted. I didn’t know how to live without being bound.” He sounded so... un-Zevran like. With no jokes, no sass, no life. Cullen wondered who the man sitting in front of him was.

“I was happy to be Oathsworn to her. But she is gone, and I do not know how to survive. I did not want to waste the life my Warden had saved, but I do not know how to live without her.” Zevran took a moment to drink before continuing. “I have no duties, no obligations aside from my Oath to her. I have no purpose other than to protect her.” His eyes raised to meet Cullen’s. There was wild desperation reflected in them. “You loved her as much as I do. I can see it in your eyes, Cullen. But you survived for a decade without her. How did you manage?”

Cullen longed to help him, this mirror image of himself. “I… I don’t –”

Sudden explosion of power dropped them both from their chairs. His templar senses screamed, his lyrium burning his blood hot. A moment later, his lieutenants were pouring into his office.

“Commander! The magic-!” Barris shouted.

“I feel it!” Maker, entire Skyhold must have felt the shockwave. But the intensity of the magic was only escalating. His lyrium thrummed in his veins.

“The focus is in the courtyard. Gather all available Templars! We will all Purge this magic source together at once!”

The second shockwave knocked them all to the floor, even flinging few weaker men against the wall. Cullen cursed, as he moved to stand again. Zevran was pulling himself up too. “Rylen, get those ready…”

He faltered, as his Templar senses overtook him. The lyrium was screeching, singing, rejoicing in the sweet melody the magical power wafting through the Skyhold was playing.  _He knew this magic_.

This was the magic he has been attuned to for his entire life. Magic that was a part of her being. Gentle waves lapping against his skin whenever she was around. Solona.

“Commander, your orders!” Rylen was shouting. But Cullen didn’t hear. This was Solona’s magic.

She was alive.

His eyes’ met Zevran’s, and saw his eyes brighten with hope.

“Rylen, there’s a possibility this is not an attack. Gather the men, but hold position.” With that, Cullen bolted for the courtyard.

The third wave came as he sprinted down the stairs. Gritting his teeth, he remained on his feet despite the growing severity of the shockwaves. There were over two dozen templars gathering. More were close behind. The very ground shook with power radiating from the training yard.

“Commander!” Leliana practically flew towards him, leaving Josephine and Inquisitor behind. “It’s her magic, no doubt about it!” He shouted. Zevran was agreeing with him. “She’s the only mage with so much power. She’s alive!”

Fourth wave of magic battered against them, leaving the templars and mages shuddering. Cullen noticed few Inquisition mages passing out, unable to withstand the relentless tides of magic. Lyrium roared in Cullen’s blood, boiling his senses. Oghren was rushing towards them as well, with the Wardens following. Hawke was bracing himself with his staff stabbed into the ground.

The shock nearly toppled him to ground when the magic suddenly enveloped them all in a buzzing cloud. Then her voice was somehow all around them, wrapping them softly.

“Hello. Can someone hear me?” Her hesitant voice rang out, echoing throughout the keep.

Cullen’s heart swelled with warmth and hope.

“I hope someone can… Too bad this works only one way… At least I think it’s working… Maker, I hope this is working. So uh, I’m still in the Fade. But! I made it to Skyhold. I think.” Cullen and Zevran looked about desperately, trying to pinpoint the source.

Barkspawn began howling, jumping through the ring of templars surrounding the courtyard. Leliana shouted “It’s Solona! She’s alive!”

“Can somebody ask the Inquisitor to open up a rift for me? I’ve killed all the demons within the area… I think it’s safe for the moment. Best to have some soldiers prepared just in case though. Inquisitor? I hope you can hear me. Kindly open a small hole for me?”

All eyes of every soul found the redheaded woman, who shook her head. “I… I don’t know how. I can’t. I can’t do it!”

Zevran unsheathed his daggers fluidly. “Oh yes you can, darling.” His velvety voice was as sweet as honey. But the hostility in his eyes made the Inquisitor scramble backwards in fear.

“I can’t do it on purpose! I don’t know how the rift opened up last time! I swear!” Inquisitor was screaming.

“Didn’t that fire-head open that sodding hole when she thought she was dying?” Oghren growled out, hefting his huge battle-axe. “Maybe we ought to make her feel the same again.” Hawke whipped up his staff, pointing it menacingly towards the Inquisitor. “I hope, for your own sake Inquisitor, you’ll get my cousin out of that damned Fade.”

“I can make you hurt beyond your worst nightmares, mageling!” Zevran spat at the Inquisitor, all pretense of sweetness gone. “My Warden is alive, and I am a Crow who has survived an archdemon that is sworn to her. I will slice through every last Inquisition soldiers if I must, and make you beg for death!”

“Cullen, no please! Help me.” Inquisitor looked to him desperately. “Inquisitor, Warden General is an ally of Inquisition. She is here, and she is within reach. You must try to save her.” It took every ounce of his willpower not to throttle her.

Zevran flicked his dagger so quickly that Cullen didn’t see him move. Suddenly a very thin red line appeared on her leg, oozing blood. Inquisitor fell to the ground, screaming. “Ser Arainai! Please, we must use reason!” Josephine’s panicked voice rang out, but was drowned out by Oghren’s bloodthirsty roars bolstered by the Wardens gathered. Cullen saw Leliana restraining her friend, while signaling with her other hand for Zevran to continue.

Barkspawn growled deeply in his throat, stalking towards the Inquisitor on the ground. Templars, Inquisition forces, and Wardens were screaming and shouting. Some were brandishing weapons. Cullen raised his voice to order his men to stand down – just as another shockwave of her magic swept through the courtyard, knocking back most of the entangled mess to the ground. Zevran took another step towards the Inquisitor during the chaos. The elf didn’t even so much as falter when the magic passed through him.

“I will make you  _beg_ , witch!” Inquisitor’s eyes slid over to his once again, but Cullen held his ground. Zevran’s cut on her leg was a superficial one – the elf wouldn’t kill her. Not while she was the only way for Solona to come back.

Barkspawn pounced, his sharp fangs catching the sunlight as he aimed straight for the Inquisitor’s neck. “No!” She screamed, desperately scuttling backwards to avoid her throat getting torn open. Cullen felt her fear pulling at the Anchor, making it shudder and blink, pulling, tightening, and coiling the Veil to the very limits – straining, the Veil tore open with a shower of yellow-green light, in the middle of the training circle.

The entire Skyhold held its breath as the hole which suddenly appeared sizzled and popped. Soldiers readied their swords, waiting for hordes of demons. Dorian and Vivienne cast barriers over the men.

A woman with tangled black hair and completely ruined armor stepped through, a broken staff in her hand. She was completely drenched with demon blood and gore, both dried old and fresh sticky ooze.

Her magic whirled around her, letting Cullen know she was real.  _Maker, Solona was alive and here_. Back in the real world.

“Ah, thank you for getting me out of that dreadful place. I really need to stop getting trapped in the Fade.” She smiled her brilliant grin. “That’s the third time I think. First time to be physically trapped of course, but nonetheless it is getting quite tiresome.

Inquisitor, would you kindly close that hole? The demons are sure to come if you leave it open for too long.” Inquisitor didn’t move a muscle. Sighing, Leliana roughly pulled her to stand, and Solas gripped her Marked hand and closed the Fade Rift.

“Thank you. Well then, I must go and rest. It has been a very difficult road to travel.” Solona smiled one more time, looking around at the people surrounding her. Cullen’s body shook when her eyes met his. “Two things before I pass out. One, Corypheus’s dragon is not an archdemon. Two, don’t wake me up.”

With that, Solon fell to the ground with a thud, her brightly burning magic winking out like a shooting star.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Version. Here is the [link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4163601/chapters/27441195) for the remastered Second Chance for Him story.

Solona did not wake up that day. Or the day after that.

The moment she fell, a swarm of Warden healers descended upon her still form, shoving concerned Cullen and Zevran roughly out of the way. Cullen only managed to wrench himself back to work after healers declared her unharmed, just exhausted. He felt the lingering traces of Solona’s magic on her skin, indicative of extensive wounds she must have healed herself during her time in the Fade. But she was alive, and she was back.

And just like the first time she came to Skyhold, her presence was on the forefront of every resident of the Skyhold’s minds, especially Cullen’s. The drastic change she caused within hours of her stumbling out of the Fade was stunning.

Leliana was happy. More than happy, she was ecstatic. Their Spymaster hummed soft tunes and smiled at everything for the entire day, entirely foregoing her usual cool manners. Her scouts flitted about, uncertain of their strange friendly boss. She wasted no time in sending out her letters their old companions, informing them of Solona’s survival. The sky was soon filled with Leliana’s crows, carrying the marvelous news to every corner of Thedas.

Solona’s Wardens stopped drinking and moping. In fact, Oghren was whipping the Wardens up within minutes of Solona dropping out of the Fade. The bearded dwarf worked the previously drunken Wardens through drills over and over again – “Boss sees your sorry arses, she’ll have my hairy hide!” – and Cullen’s soldiers stood in awe as they watched the Wardens. Their fighting and physical prowess was indeed spectacular. He was impressed – each junior Warden would be able to rival his templar lieutenants. He would never have guessed that sorry lot sprawled in the tavern for past few weeks were so proficient with their weapons.

Zevran and Barkspawn were practically chained to Solona. They never left her still form in the infirmary. Cullen visited every second he could get away from his work – which Solona had managed to triple by uttering six simple words after her flashy return – and saw the smile that was plastered on his own face mirrored on the elf. They didn’t speak to each other, but they both knew they felt the same staring into her sleeping face. Cullen enjoyed Zevran’s steady presence next to her, protecting her. And though he couldn’t tell for sure, Cullen thought that maybe Zevran didn’t mind him coming by to the infirmary too much as well. Cullen felt certain that Corypheus could surrender at that moment and he wouldn’t care. He was already too happy.

His men noticed the change in his mood, and his frequent visits to the infirmary. His officers were much more relaxed around him, laughing freely as Cullen grumbled through the mountain of paperwork. It was a common knowledge by now that he was infatuated with Solona after all. But Solona was alive, and if the cost of that was to be countless jokes at his expense, so be it. It was a price he was more than willing to pay.

 

*******

 

“You want to  _what?_ ” Leliana’s angry voice rang out from the War Room, and Cullen quickened his pace. He was late to the meeting – Solona’s beautiful face had him enthralled for too long in the infirmary.

“Leliana, please!”

“No, how could you possibly even think such a thing?”

He rushed in, opening the heavy doors. “Maker, stop! The entire Skyhold will hear us arguing.” His eyes took in the scene. Inquisitor was huddling against the wall, looking frightened of the angry Spymaster. Cassandra and Josephine were holding Leliana down, keeping her away from Trevelyan.

“What’s going on?” He didn’t really want to know.

“Inquisitor thinks that First Warden should be either killed or banished from Skyhold.” Leliana spat. “She thinks a demon has possessed her, that Solona is gone.”

Cullen smashed his fist into the table, barely reigning in the fire that roared through his blood. He clenched his teeth in an effort not to lash out at the foolish woman. “What?” He growled.

“She can’t be back!” Trevelyan protested, despite being unable to meet his heated glare. “That thing is not human. It’s a demon trying to steal away my power!”

“We’ve already ascertained that she has not been possessed! Were you not listening for the past two days?” Cullen shouted.

“She’s a monster! That demon in the Fade wasn’t something any human could defeat.” Inquisitor whined. “I don’t care if she’s possessed or not. She’s here to diminish my power over my own Inquisition. I want her gone!”

“She’s an ally!” Cullen roared. “She sacrificed herself so you could escape from the Fade, you miserable mage! Without her, all of us would be dead! A demon army would have wiped out the Inquisition, and southern Thedas!”

“She belittles my authority!”

“She does no such thing! It is you who lack proper leadership! Do not degrade Solona for doing a better job. It is you who diminishes your own position!”

“Commander, please! Raising our voice won’t help. Let us work through this in civil manner.” Josephine’s pleading voice barely kept him in check. His hand gripped the pommel of his sword tightly, shaking with rage.

“It is true that it is very unlikely that one mage could survive for a month in the Fade alone, let alone surviving the fight against the Nightmare demon at Adamant.” Cassandra tried to reason with him, but it only enraged him and Leliana further.

“Solas has already said that there is no spirit or demon inside her! Is that not enough? He knows more about Fade and spirits than anybody else!” Leliana’s voice was a step away from a scream.

“And why should we trust that knife-ear?” Trevelyan’s voice took on a mocking tone. “I bet he makes up most of the stuff about Fade anyway.”

Cullen strode forward, and slammed his fist into the wall next to her head as he glared down at the pathetic mage. “Solona is alive, and she is back.” He growled out, making sure she could see the anger in his eyes.

“Her magic is her own, and no demon could ever imitate it. I can recognize her magic anywhere. She is not possessed, and she is not an abomination. I have staked my life and sanity on this before, and now I am willing to bet the Inquisition, no the entire Thedas on this. It is Solona. You will stop slandering her.”

Inquisitor looked as if Cullen had slapped her. “This discussion is over. Do not bring this matter up again.” He stepped away, disgusted. “We have more pressing concerns. Warden General said that Corypheus’s pet dragon isn’t an archdemon. Can we trust this information?”

Looking relieved at the new topic, Josephine and Cassandra stepped away from Leliana, who shrugged.

“Usually, I would never doubt her. But considering the magnitude of importance of this, I am concerned.” Leliana looked thoughtful, despite her body still shaking with an effort to contain her rage. “No other Wardens have even mentioned anything about the archdemon. And as far as I know, she is no different than other Wardens. Unless there is a special method for First Warden to tell, I don’t see how she would know.”

“There is no way to verify this without asking her how she knows.” Cassandra grunted.

“Why should we wait? Just wake her up.” Inquisitor’s voice was scathing, but Josephine looked worried.

“Inquisitor, First Warden was stranded in the Fade for a month. She needs to rest-”

“And I’m not important enough to disturb her sleep?” Cassandra pressed down hard on Leliana’s shoulder, restraining the angry woman.

Cullen sighed.  _Maker, what I wouldn’t do to have Solona as the Inquisitor, instead of this… noblewoman._

“Zevran and Barkspawn won’t allow anyone to wake her up, Inquisitor. You are welcome to try, but I am in no hurry to turn those two against us.” He felt a small satisfaction at how she paled at the mention of Zevran.

“We need to know what she’s been through in the Fade. There is nothing Inquisition can do until she wakes up. Can we not convince Zevran to help us?” Cassandra grumbled. She always hated waiting.

“No, there is no way you can convince Zevran to wake her Cassandra.” Leliana toyed with a grin.

“But Corypheus-”

“Zevran is perfectly happy to let Thedas wait to be saved until she is fully rested.” Leliana sighed. “As important as this matter is, I must agree with him that Solona should be left alone until she wakes up on her own considering she told us not to wake her. Meanwhile, we can make the preparations for the Winter Palace Ball.”

“Right, the ball is to happen within a fortnight.” Josephine chimed in, looking at her notes. “I have managed to get the invitation for us through Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons. We will be attending as his guest.”

“Does he want an alliance with us?” Cullen hated the Game.

“We needed a way to attend the Ball, and his invitation will allow us to be there. We are not allying ourselves with Duke Gaspard with this, at least not yet. But we can use this to gather for influence in the Orlesian Court” Leliana’s eyes shone, and he groaned inwardly. She was in her element. Maker, this was going to take long.

 

*******

 

His feet carried him to the infirmary. Cullen knew he should be getting back to his office – Maker those reports would have buried his table by now – but he needed to see Solona again. With a smile, he watched Leliana fell in step with him. She threw him a knowing look, but they walked together in a companionable silence.

When they walked in to the infirmary, Zevran was washing her gently with a cloth. Cullen hesitated by the door, as Leliana stepped in softly.

“She still hasn’t woken up yet?” Leliana’s voice was worried. Barkspawn whined up at her, concern clear in his intelligent eyes.

Zevran was wiping away dried blood from Solona’s skin. Cullen looked away, wondering if he should leave. “No. She stirred a little couple times but remains asleep.” Zevran’s deft fingers wrung the cloth, and dipped it into water bucket again. Cullen could smell her – citric scent mixed with flowers and coppery blood. Maker, so similar to that day in the tower. Light sheen of sweat broke through his skin.

“She just needs to rest. There is nothing wrong with her physically.” Cullen said softly, watching the prone figure with corner of his eyes. He had to believe that.

“Don’t just stand about over there. Come help me wipe her down.” Zevran tossed him a wet cloth, and he barely caught it before it smacked him in the face.

“But…”

“She prefers to wake up not covered in demon gore and blood, Commander.” Leliana smiled gently, already holding a cloth of her own. Sighing, Cullen moved closer to bed.

Barkspawn sprang up, blocking his way for a moment. The dog gave a terse look over and a whiff, before barking out his permission to approach her. Amused, Cullen patted the mabari and sat down in a chair next to Zevran.

Solona slumbered in her bed, and Cullen’s eyes softened as he watched her chest rise and fall with each shallow breath.

“Is there something wrong, my dashing Commander?” Zevran looked over curiously. The elf had recovered his salacious tone completely. “Nothing. Just… remembering when she used to fall asleep in the Circle library.” Cullen wet the cloth, and started to wipe down her arm. Patches of gore had soaked into her skin, leaving ugly blotches. He hoped they weren't poisonous. “I used to carry her back to her quarters when she did.”

“Is that so?” Zevran seemed amused. “She still falls asleep in the library at the Vigil’s Keep.” He chuckled happily.

The three sat in comfortable silence, gently wiping away the filth. It was Zevran who broke that silence again.

“Did that Inquisitorialness threaten to have me executed yet, Leliana?” She huffed. “Of course. She also wanted Barkspawn poisoned. I told her she could have a go at you herself, since I wasn’t willing to get my scouts killed on a pointless suicide mission. Oghren said she’d have to go through him first.”

Barkspawn growled disapprovingly, and Zev chortled. “Leliana, I truly feel for you. You must want to strangle her quite often, yes?”

“Every day.” Cullen grumbled, to others’ amusement. Sighing, Cullen tossed the bloodied cloth away, and stood. “I need to go back to my duties. There’s hundred things to do.”

He looked at Solona longingly, before turning away. Leliana followed, sending a wink at Zevran. “Let us know as soon as she wakes up Zev.”

“Of course. I’m sure entire Skyhold will know the moment she wakes.” Zevran settled back in his chair, resuming his vigil.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Version. Here is the [link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4163601/chapters/27441195) for the remastered Second Chance for Him story.

When she did finally wake, Leliana, Oghren, and Cullen ran for the infirmary as soon as the messengers informed them of the news, to their men’s amusement. Truthfully, none of them cared.

“Solona! Thank the Maker, you’re awake!” Leliana bolted for her, embracing the mage tightly. “You had us all so worried! Don’t _ever_ do that again, you hear me? Ever!” Cullen followed a little more slowly, as Leliana showered her friend with tears and kisses and dwarf barreled onto her bed. His eyes took in the woman sitting and laughing.

She looked so beautiful, even in her plain cotton white robe. Her soft face shone with confidence and happiness. And Cullen loved her. _How could I possibly not have known before? I love her with every ounce of my being_.

“Cullen! Come try this! It tastes amazing!” Her voice shook him out of reverie, and he noticed that Zevran was watching him closely.

At that moment, Hawke barged in to the room, looking a little out of breath. His eyes settled on his cousin sitting up on the bed, and he relaxed instantly.

“My little cousin, good to see you are still alive. Did the Fade get too boring for you?”

Solona giggled, motioning for two of them to sit as well. “I just thought it’d make you cry to lose your favorite cousin, Garett. Couldn’t let that happen, now could I? Champion of Kirkwall, crying. We Amells have a reputation to uphold.”

“Warden General. How are you feeling?” Moving a little awkwardly, he settled himself in a chair on the side of the bed.

“Starving. I fear I may wipe out your entire month’s food supply today. Comes with being a Warden I suppose.” Cullen watched amusedly as she finished the meat and moved onto a fish. Her spell kept the empty plates floating around the bed, filling the room thick with her gentle waves of magic. Considering the number of plates floating, Cullen could tell she wasn’t exaggerating.

“Skyhold will manage. What did you eat in the Fade for a month?” Cullen did not miss how she stilled for a split second.

“Oh, whatever I wanted to. I dreamed up the food I wished to eat. It was really fun.” Another plate floated away from her bed, and Cullen couldn’t help his curiosity.

“How are you managing this? I’ve never seen magic like this before. A… levitation spell?”

Solona grew excited. “Remarkable isn’t it? It took me a while to figure this trick out. All by myself I might add.” She lifted her chin proudly. “It’s technically not a spell. It’s an application of two different spells actually. By using the immolate spell and ice grasp simultaneously. You see, by using those two elemental spells at a much weaker strength, I can warm or cool the temperature of an area slightly. Once I got to the point where I could exert control over the exact degree, I could generate a breeze, and even control the direction of it. Each plate has a very concentrated and small immolation and ice grasp spell below and over it, keeping them afloat!” She chattered away, while Zevran groaned. Obviously she’s explained this often. “My Warden remains a bookworm despite years of fighting. Maddening, really. She can go on for _hours_.”

“But… two spells simultaneously? That’s… I’ve never heard of a mage being capable of doing that.” Cullen mused, putting his hand under a plate after removing one of his gloves. Truly, he could feel gentle breeze beneath it. He wasn’t sure why the temperature change was causing the breeze, but he could feel the heat from below, and chill from above. “And the control you must have over your magic to even attempt this… Maker, this shouldn’t be possible by any means!”

Leliana and Zevran looked surprised. “You actually understood her ramblings?” Leliana ruffled Solona’s hair gently. “She often goes on about experimenting with different spells, but usually loses us after few words.”

“Of course he understood it. He’s a perfect Templar.” Solona drawled, waving her hand, making the plate float away from his outstretched hand.

“And I also understand that this is an impossible achievement for a mage. This is… your control over your magic is incredible. Maker, you’re probably the most powerful and talented magic Thedas has ever seen.”

“I don’t know about that, but true. I am fairly fantastic.” Solona winked. But growing tired of scholarly talk, Oghren quickly drew her attention away.

“Boss! You kill that spider demon thing? By the sodding ancestors, that was one hairy thing to kill!” Solona laughed, and nodded. “Of course I did. Nothing is unkillable!”

“Solona, what happened? You were stuck in the Fade for a month. A _month_! How did you survive?” Leliana was holding onto her tightly. Sighing, Solona pushed the plate in front of her away, making it float as well. She suddenly looked incredibly weary, her eyes darkening with… sorrow? Cullen couldn’t tell.

“It was a difficult battle, but I managed to kill the Nightmare demon. It was stubborn, so it took a while. But I killed it.” Zevran smiled gently at that.

“Anyway, I was there with the giant demon carcass sitting on the ground, and the Fade sort of… melted away. I guess the Nightmare was shaping that part of the world the way it wanted to look, and since I killed it, the demon lair returned to… normal? But by then the Breach had been long closed, and I couldn’t escape.”

Solona took a long drink of water before continuing. “You guys weren’t there in the Fade with me anymore, so I assumed jumping through the Fade Rift was the way to get back into the real world. So I traveled through the Fade towards the Skyhold, assuming the Inquisitor would be there. Fade reflects the real world, so it wasn’t too hard to tell where I was going. When I arrived at Skyhold, I just let my magic run wild with my words, hoping it would catch the Inquisitor’s attention – I wasn’t sure if my words were going to get across the Fade. Lucky for me they did.”

“Solona, I’ve been with you long enough to tell when you’re hiding something.” Leliana gently prodded, and Solona shook her head. “I can’t… I’m sorry but I can’t tell you. The Fade isn’t meant for the mortals.”

She looked so brittle in that moment, that Cullen feared she may break into millions of pieces. He wanted to hold her, to whisper assurances to her that everything was alright and that she would be safe. Without thinking, he reached out for her hand and gently squeezed it with ungloved hand. Solona looked surprised, but smiled at him gently.

Barkspawn pushed his way onto the bed, and Solona petted him with their entwined hands. “Did you miss me Barkspawn? I’m sorry I let you worry for so long.” The dog whined, its tone somehow admonishing.

“Yes, yes, I know it was dumb. I won’t do it again if I can help it.” She smiled, and then looked over at Cullen.

“Zevran tells me you kept my Wardens safe after the battle, Cullen. Thank you for treating my men fairly even after that horrendous display at the Adamant fortress.”

“Of course, Warden General.” He tried to sound professional, but Solona looked annoyed.

“Cullen, there’s nobody here. You can call me Solona.”

“But…”

“If you’re going to hold my hand, you might as well.” She raised their entwined hands up, and he blushed. Deciding to take mercy on him, Solona moved her gaze to Oghren.

“Give me the status report on the Wardens.”

Cullen nodded, his head barely following the words she was saying. He had gotten too close to never hearing her wonderful voice again. He let the sound soak into his body, reveling in the fact that she was still alive.

“With the Nightmare dead, the false Calling is gone Boss. Ha! You kicked some serious arses. Those dumb mages are no longer bound to Corypheus either. Everything is back to normal.”

“If that’s so, why are you still drunk?” Hawke put in.

“He’s drunk all the time, Hawke.” Leliana smiled.

“How many dead?” Solona’s voice was businesslike, despite Zevran snickering beside her.

“Warden Commander Clarel survived the encounter with the fake archdemon. She is being treated for her wounds in another wing, but is still unconscious.” Leliana informed her. “Only senior ranking officers are currently Oghren and Warden Stroud. Inquisition was forced to kill many of the Warden mages, but over half has survived their possession since you broke the spell. Over five hundred Wardens survived the Adamant, thanks to your orders. They are all here at Skyhold.”

“I no longer hear the Calling. There must be no lasting effects. I believe we can start to discuss an actual alliance between the Grey Wardens and the Inquisition now.” Solona chewed on her lips gently, and Cullen forced himself to look away. Maker, his thoughts were flooded with his old desires.

“My dear Warden, shouldn’t you rest more before working again?” Zevran gently pushed a pie into her hand. “One day, my dear Warden. The world will survive even if you take one day off.” She laughed before biting into her pie. “I fear I won’t be able to move after spending all this time eating and sleeping in this miserable bed! I’m feeling far too heavy and sluggish already.”

“Zevran is right, Solona. You spent a month in a place where no mortal should have been. You can at least take a breath before jumping back into this mess.” Cullen tried to sound stern, but failed hopelessly as she winked at him mischievously. He swallowed hard to clear his throat, wanting to strangle Hawke as the mage snickered and poked him.

“Fine. One day! One more day in this miserable bed. After that, I’ll burn up the room in my frustrations. Leliana, get the war meeting scheduled for tomorrow. I’m sure Inquisition has many questions. Oghren, get Wardens ready for my inspection by midday. I’ll evaluate them personally and set up a training schedule by end of the day. Zev, where in the Void is my armor? I want it back, cleaned by dawn. Get me a new staff too. I broke the old one bashing a pride demon in the head. You know my preferences, right? Barkspawn, don’t look at me like that. Duties come first remember?” Barkspawn slobbered all over her, licking fervently. “Argh! Stop! Fine! I promise I’ll play with you today, ok? Good boy.”

Cullen smiled as she rattled off her orders, easy as she was breathing. Considering how bossy she was, she must be feeling fine.

“Such a hard taskmaster, no?” Zevran sighed next to him, but his eyes were filled with warmth Cullen felt as well. “Coldblooded slave master.”

“Zev, I’m serious. I want my armor back! I thought you didn’t like it when I don’t wear it?”

“My dear Warden, I am perfectly fine with you wearing no armor. It covers up your divine bosoms after all.” With the elf’s handsome eyes glinting, and eyebrows arching suggestively, Cullen grew crimson in the face. Maker, his tone left even Hawke blushing. “But I cannot help but fear someone will put an arrow through your heart whenever you take it off.”

Leliana giggled, before poking Solona. “We had to throw away your armor. You destroyed it thoroughly.”

At that, she sighed. “Maker, those were so hard to come by!”

“What’s the matter, cousin? I seem to remember your collection of legendary weapons and armors. Did you happen to lose them or something? If so, I could lend you something.” Hawke smiled slyly, but Solona waved him off.

“No, it’s fine. My _legendary_ collection will cover me, as you say. I just liked the color of that armor.”

Zevran snorted.

Shooting him a glare, Solona settled back into her bed and waved her hand. The plates floating around her bed neatly piled up on the chair next to the bed, and closing her eyes, she yawned. Cullen shivered slightly as his lyrium sang softly in response, still awed at her magic. “Ok, I’m tired. I expect things to have changed when I wake up. Barkspawn, come up here.” She petted the spot next to her, and mabari promptly curled up. “I’m going back to sleep. If the world decides to end, wake me up. If not, well. Wake me for dinner. I’m hungry.”

With that, she fell asleep almost instantly. Chuckling, Cullen stood up as Zevran and Oghren shook their heads in amusement. Cullen watched as Hawke goaded others for running Solona’s errands, and then left to return to his own duties, suffering the knowing looks from his lieutenants.

 

*******

 

Cullen’s fingers traced the insides of her thighs, wrapped tightly around his waist. They were very soft to his touch, and his thumbs gently rubbed circles into them.

“Cullen.” She hissed his name, dragging his eyes up to her beautiful face. “Give me _everything_.”

Her scent lifted up to his nose, and he took a deep breath. Citric and flowery, he loved the fragrance clinging to her. He walked backwards, until the back of his knees touched the bed. He sat down with her straddling on his lap, holding her tightly.

She leaned in close to press her lips against his, and Cullen committed every detail into his memory. She giggled – then bit down hard making him wince with pain. Blood flowed freely, and she lapped it up.

Her hands were roaming over his bare chest, lightly scratching with her nails. They left angry red welts on his skin, despite the feather light pressure she used.

“I want everything.” She rasped into his ear, as the head of his cock pressed against her opening. Cullen pressed himself in, spreading her apart. The smell of rotten oranges grew, assaulting his senses.

He looked at her, and to his horror he realized that she had horns he didn’t notice before. Purple eyes stared back into his own. Laughing cruelly, demon-Solona impaled herself onto him, riding up and down his stiff shaft. One of her purple hands clutched at his throat, tearing and choking. He screamed, cold terror clutching at his heart as the demon fondled her own breasts with her other hand. “Don’t you love me, Cullen?” It spoke sarcastically as he tried to throw her off of himself. Her legs held him tight, bruising him with the crushing force. “You love me.” Her voice was distorted and cruel, grinding against his senses as her pussy made squelching noise, continuing to fuck herself with his cock. He screamed until he woke up, drenched with sweat and trembling weakly in his bed. Her cruel voice still floated around him, drowning him in fears. “I’m back, Cullen. _Love me_.”

 

*******

 

“Warden General, we have a right to know! What happened in the Fade?” Josephine looked horrified at Cassandra’s blunt words, but Solona’s expression did not change. Her face was set in stone – Solona wasn’t going to change her mind. The late afternoon sun rays filtered through the huge windows – making every spec floating in the air visible. It sparked around her.

The meeting was delayed since the midday – Inquisitor couldn’t be persuaded to leave her discussions regarding the fashion in Val Royeaux with the nobles until now.

“Seeker Pentaghast, you in fact, do not have a right to know. What happened during the time I was in the Fade is not up for discussion. Things in the Fade are not meant for the mortals. You will know exactly as much as I deem necessary. No more, no less.” Cullen hurriedly cut Cassandra off before things could escalate.

“The most important thing we need to know is this: you said that the dragon wasn’t a true archdemon. How is it that you can tell? No other Wardens have managed to do so.”

“Excellent question, Commander. I can tell because I am a very special Warden.” She batted her eyelashes at him, smiling wickedly. Cullen fought the blush creeping up to his face, along with the dread digging cold claws into him. Last night’s dreams were still too fresh in his mind. But Solona’s voice remained perfectly professional.

“I killed the previous archdemon, as you know. But when a Grey Warden kills an archdemon, they usually do not survive the feat. The soul of the Old God mingles with the Grey Warden that deals the final blow, and both perish. In my case, the moment I killed it, the essence of Urthemiel passed through me, changing me somehow. Due to that momentary contact, I can sense beings such as Old Gods and others. That dragon Corypheus commands is just a beast, not an ancient soul corrupted by the taint. This is not a blight.”

“And we are to blindly trust your words, Warden?” Inquisitor’s eyes burned with anger, and from the way Josephine was fidgeting, Cullen could tell their ambassador was mortified at the degrading form of title Trevelyan had used. But before he could interrupt, Solona replied smoothly.

“As the person that killed the archdemon and ended the last blight, allow me to assure you that I am the best in this field. That dragon may look like an archdemon, but it is not.”

“And if you’re wrong? What if it is an archdemon and it is a blight? Will you take responsibility for your words?” Trevelyan was glaring daggers at her. Cullen was surprised that the noble even had managed to work up the courage to do so.

“Of course.” Solona shrugged simply, earning a snicker from Zevran and Hawke leaning against the wall.

“How? You’re claiming that you’ll take a responsibility for a Blight!” Trevelyan screeched.

“I’ll kill it. I killed the last archdemon. Ended the last blight, if you remember. Real archdemon or no, I’ll kill this one too. I have the skills to do so, Inquisitor. Do not doubt that.” _Unlike you._ Trevelyan bristled at that, the maybe-insult coming across clearly. A well-deserved one though, Cullen mused.

“But my time in the Fade is not important. There are more dire things to discuss. The alliance.” Solona ignored the fuming Inquisitor, looking to the other leaders of the Inquisition. “With the false Calling no longer hanging over Orlais, I am willing to offer a full alliance for the Inquisition. This will not affect the current support you have from me as the Arlessa of Amaranthine.”

“Thank you, Warden General. You are most kind.” Josephine made a small bow.

“Do not thank me yet, lady ambassador. I can drive a hard bargain.” Solona winked. “I have terms that must be met for an alliance to happen. Conditions that are non-negotiable if we are to have an alliance. One, I must be informed of and give permission to any and all operations which my Wardens will be involved with. You will understand that my Wardens are under my command. They are not recruited into the Inquisition, they are not your soldiers and messengers. I hold absolute authority over how and what Wardens do. Of course, we will be fighting the same enemy, so I will be more than agreeable to your demands. Two, if at any point an archdemon arises and blight hits, all Wardens will be allowed to take up arms and leave. No Inquisition members will hinder us when the time comes. Three, all Warden business will stay within the Warden Order. That means no spying, Leliana. Some things are meant for the Order alone.”

Solona met eyes with each and every one of the members in the room. Cullen had to look away, his mind seeing the purple there instead of the dark brown. Her magic winding softly around her was the only reminder that she was real. “If any of you have a problem with this, say so now.”

They all shook their heads. “Good. Then we can move on to an actual alliance. I am willing to provide eight hundred Wardens for this cause. If there is need for more, we can discuss this further.”

“Eight hundred sounds reasonable.” Leliana agreed. Cullen couldn’t help his excitement – from what he’s seen so far from the Warden trainings, they were incredible soldiers.

“I would hope that you would not invoke your Conscription rights on Inquisition members, Warden General.” Cassandra pointed out, and Solona smiled.

“Shame. There are many I would love to conscript. But you’re right. I will not conscript an active member of Inquisition while the war rages on.” Solona’s eyes remained pointedly on Cullen, sparkling with amusement, before moving on.

“All the necessary resources such as food, materials for armors and weapons, mounts will be handled on our side. Inquisition does not need to worry about feeding us. Just give me a room to stuff them in. That’s all I need from Skyhold.” Josephine looked surprised. Obviously, she’d been preparing to argue over this point.

“Warden General, are you certain?” Josephine’s confused tone made Solona smile gently. “Lady Montilyet, I have been running this army for a past decade. It is a simple matter of rerouting the resources to Skyhold, but thank you for your concerns.”

Solona’s eyes moved back onto Leliana. “What is the Inquisition’s next step for stopping Corypheus?”

“Commander has uncovered a plot to assassinate the Empress Celene of Orlais during his… ‘negotiations’ with the Templars at the Therinfal Redoubt.” Leliana flicked her eyes over to Cullen.

“Empress Celene? Why would… oh. I see.” Solona grimaced.

“You see? Why, praise tell us what exactly you know of that monster’s plot, Warden.” Inquisitor sneered. Josephine somehow looked even more apologetic than before.

“I assume that Corypheus wanted to sow chaos into Thedas by assassinating Empress Celene. Once Orlais is left without a proper leader, he would have tried to overtake southern Thedas with the demon army he tried to create with my Wardens. This is what you have surmised so far, is it not?” All heads nodded, except the Inquisitor. Cullen was impressed – Solona worked out the key points of the enemy plans within few moments of getting the information. Splendid tactician indeed.

Inquisitor was sneering openly at Solona now, her hate written clearly on her face. The woman was actually curling her lips in distaste. Obviously she hasn’t expected Solona to figure out the situation so quickly. But Solona didn’t seem to notice the inappropriate Inquisitor.

“Considering that my Wardens are safe, Corypheus is left without a physical means to overtake southern Thedas. Therefore, he will need to wipe out all possibility of stability within Orlais. Considering the current state of affairs of Orlais, I doubt it would be difficult to do so. But with no army he would want to strike out all leaders… which would include Gaspard, Celene, perhaps even the Council of Heralds. Assuming that none are actually allied with Corypheus, of course. And he would want to strike out all of them in one attack. Killing them all separately would alert them, make it harder. He will need to wait until they are all in one place, some huge event where everyone of importance in Orlais will gather. Some sort of… ball. I assume it’s a ball since it is Orlais we are talking about.” Solona’s eyes were focused on the map. Cullen worried if the map would catch on fire with the intensity of her stare.

“There’s a civil war going on currently in Orlais, if I remember correctly… And knowing the Empress’s reputation, she would most likely try a diplomatic tactic to end this war fairly soon. That must be when Corypheus wishes to strike. A peace talk.” Solona looked up. “Is there a peace talk happening anytime soon, Lady Montilyet?”

“As it happens, cousin, there is a ball being organized by Grand Duchess Florianne de Chalons. It seems everyone of note will be attending.” Hawke idly spun his staff with his fingers. “Wonderful timing.”

“Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons has kindly invited the Inquisition to attend this particular ball, Warden General.” Josephine added, but her face was clouded. “But the invitation came before your… arrival at Skyhold from Adamant, my lady. We could ask for another invitation for yourself, but with the ball looming so closely over us… I am afraid that the chances of invitation for Grey Wardens are low.”

Solona groaned. “Orlesian ball… Maker, the things I do for this job…” Zevran chuckled.

“Inquisition was invited by the Grand Duke Gaspard? Are you in full alliance with him?” Josephine shook her head at Solona’s question.

“No? Well then, I guess I will garner my invitation from Empress Celene to balance out the power then. That way it will seem neutral for the Inquisition and Grey Wardens since we will be in full alliance.” Solona was chewing on her lips again. Andraste guide him, Cullen wished fervently for her to stop, lest he bite down on her lips with his own teeth.

“That is an excellent idea, Warden General. But to request an invitation this late… and from the Empress herself? It would be… difficult.” From the way Josephine said it, it translated into impossible. Solona just grinned.

“Dear Ambassador, invitations will take care of itself. No need to worry yourself over it. I can call in for a few favors. We have more pressing matters to worry about… I don’t have a thing to wear!”I will get my own invitation from lowr yourself, but with the ball looming so closely over us... Warden General."efore, he will


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Version. Here is the [link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4163601/chapters/27441195) for the remastered Second Chance for Him story.

“Good morning, Commander. Knight-Captain Rylen. Ser Barris.” Cullen glanced over, surprised to see her walking towards him. Zevran and Barkspawn trailed after her as always. His lieutenants stood up a little straighter, behind him. The rising sun shone brightly in her black hair, giving it a gentle glow. Maker, she was beautiful. The chill mountain morning air had brought a slight flush to her cheeks. But what was she doing up and about at the very crack of dawn? She was supposed to be in bed, resting.

“Warden General Amell. Zevran. Is there something I can help you with?” He nodded in greeting, and smiled. Barkspawn wiggled his tail. In the early morning light, it was easy to ignore the nagging fears at the back of his mind – dark whispers that suggested that she was a demon.

“As a matter of fact, there is. If you won’t mind, I would like to watch your training sessions for the Inquisition soldiers.” That threw him off. “Uh… why?”

“We are to enter into an alliance, Commander. I would like to evaluate for myself the level of competence we are to expect from the Inquisition soldiers. That way I can prepare my Wardens better for each assignments, and minimize casualties. Train them to fit your fighting styles. We need to adept, so we fight together better. Wardens are not used to fighting with others after all. From what I saw at the Adamant, your soldiers are very capable. But nonetheless I would like to examine your soldiers properly, without demons raining down around us. And of course, I could offer my opinions if you wish for them.”

That was… very reasonable. “Of course, Warden General. Forgive me, we have not had an inspection by anyone other than myself since… Haven. I would welcome another’s views.” Cullen mentally berated himself. Inquisitor should be inspecting their troops. It was her responsibilities. He should have at least asked Cassandra. Now Solona was doing their jobs for them.

“Barris, you are to attend to First Warden today. Mira, take over his duties.”

“Ser!” Barris saluted, looking fairly green.

“Ser Barris, no need to be so nervous.” Solona’s eyes were clearly amused. “I don’t bite. I seem to be saying that quite often these days.”

Solona’s attention settled back on to him. Her sweet voice and citric scent swirled around him, wrapping him in a tight embrace. Even in the clear mountain air, it was _intoxicating_. “Commander. You’ll have my report by this afternoon. And if you are so inclined, your officers and yourself are welcome to watch the Wardens training at any time. We begin two hours before dawn.” Cullen nodded. “Thank you. I will be there.”

Inclining her head, Solona smiled and motioned for Barris. “Now, good ser. Show me _everything_.” With that, Barris led her little group towards the barracks, and Cullen couldn’t stop how his eyes lingered on her swaying hips. Rylen and Mira noticed, and chuckled quietly.

“Shut up, both of you. Back to work!”

 

*******

 

Maker, where in the Void could that book be? I swear it was right here… Cullen grumbled, moving through the piles of maps and books on his floor. Maybe it was on the chair? His eyes moved over to his chair. It was a mountain of reports and books.

He felt her magic gently winding around him, before her voice floated towards him. “Commander, a word?”

He straightened up, smiling at Solona. Barris looked exhausted standing next to her. Zevran and Barkspawn were there as well of course.

“Do you have cookies hidden in your floor?” Solona’s amused smile made him tongue-tied.

“I, uh… a book. I was looking for a book.” Maker, of all times to stutter his words!

“A book? What kind of book, Commander? A rulebook? A naughty book?” Her eyes danced, and Cullen sputtered.

“No! Maker, no. I was just looking for my records of trebuchet calibrations.”

“Is that so? Well, I can give you a hand.” Solona’s magic filled his room, and suddenly all his reports, maps, and books floated up into air. Cullen felt his floor heat up while the air chilled as a little whirlwind formed, filling his visions with papers. Then everything settled back down, somehow neatly organized on his table and bookshelves. His chair was actually visible for once.

“Neat trick, no? Her office used to look like yours before she figured that out.” Zevran was twirling his dagger with his fingers. Solona’s beckoning fingers were answered by a thick tome that flew into her grip, which she handed to him. It was his notes. He nodded his thanks.

“Now, you have a problem Commander.” Solona’s concerned face immediately caught his attention.

“Here is my report.” She handed it to him, but continued talking. “Your soldiers are in amazing shape Commander. They are dedicated to the Inquisition, and works hard. They trust each other. You are using your Templar training very well, here. Having former templars working as the officers was a brilliant move as well. They are one of the best military forces in Thedas after all.” Her eyes moved to Barris. “I was very impressed today. You have excellent people here, such as Ser Barris. Where did you find him? If it wasn’t for our agreement, I would conscript him.”

Barris grinned happily. “Thank you, Warden General.”

“But, it does not change the fact that you have a problem.” Solona’s eyes were hard. “Templars and mages here in Inquisition.” Cullen’s head swam in confusion.

“Was there another fight?” Barris shook his head, looking confused as well.

“The hostility between the templars and mages has declined remarkably since Haven. There was a war going on between them, but since coming to the Skyhold we have had no issues.”

Solona didn’t budge. “Commander, listen to yourself. They’re not fighting openly, so everything is fine? They don’t trust each other! They don’t even talk to each other.”

“They’re templars and mages. You know how things work; you were in the Circle too.”

“That’s exactly why this is a problem!” Solona seemed exasperated, pacing in front of him. “Commander, you’ve lived through two mage rebellions! Don’t you remember how they started? They stopped talking! You and I were the only ones making any sort of small talk back in Ferelden Circle. How do you expect the two groups to understand each other? Get better, learn about each other? Think of them as humans, when they don’t talk?”

“There won’t be a rebellion here. Things are different. Inquisition is not a Circle, and the templars here understand that.” Cullen tried to keep his annoyance out of his voice. It was the exact same expectations everybody had when he first joined Inquisition.

“No, you don’t understand! Commander, you may think that you’re not behaving like a templar, but you are!” Solona flicked her fingers angrily, and Cullen noticed that Barris flinched, expecting an outburst. But she remained in control of her magic. Impressive, considering how agitated she was. Then again, when was she _not_ impressive?

“You claim that the Inquisition is not a Circle. True, compared to a real Circle, the freedom mages here have is preposterous. Revered Mothers would scream and run away in terror, and they are not chained by phylacteries. But how many mage lieutenants do you have under your command, Commander?” His protest died in his throat. Her dark eyes bored into his, never breaking the eye contact.

“I have not seen a single mage training out there with your men today. Templars and soldiers worked hard, and they are amazing men. But mages? They keep to themselves in their tower, teaching and researching magic amongst themselves. The only mages that have some sort of voice in this keep is Dorian, Solas, Vivienne, and the Inquisitor. Do you even have training rosters for them? Who’s training the younger mages to become healers? Who’s training the battle mages?”

Cullen had no answers for her.

“Commander, your current officers are excellent. They know their duties, and they are more than capable of carrying out their tasks. But they are all former-templars. All of the commanding officers, who hold power over the mages that are recruited into the Inquisition. No matter how different things are here from normal Circles, the mages have no voice of their own. As always.”

Shame burned in his face. Cullen had never considered the implications before. He had always claimed to be an ex-templar since his recruitment into the Inquisition. Clearly, it wasn’t as true as he’d believed.

“Cullen.” She stepped up to him, holding his hand gently. “You’ve done incredible work here. Your army is one of the best in the Thedas. Despite having seen the worst the magic could throw at you, you still treat them as humans, not possible monsters. You’ve treated _me_ fairly, which speaks of untold strength you carry inside you. You’ve utilized every skill set you have for this cause, and you’ve done everything in your power to help others in need.”

Her hands warmed his, gentle and comforting. “I was your mage, Cullen. This will never work without a mage and a templar working together. You and I, we can make this work. This Inquisition’s cause is worth fighting for. For once, we can fight together Cullen.”

His hands gripped hers tightly. Her magic made the lyrium in his blood thrum, singing softly. A constant reminder of her magic, and of his Templar trainings. And yet, the song was always somehow comforting. In that moment, nothing existed but the two of them. Their lyrium and magic intertwined in complex harmony. Former Circle mage, and a former Templar standing together facing a common enemy, helping each other and filling up what the other lacks.

Her eyes were steady. “I’ll help. Let me help, Cullen.”

His answer was simple. “Yes.”

 

*******

 

“Form up! You sorry bastards, I said form up!” Oghren growled, sweating as sun beat down around them. The sky was clear, and Grey Wardens were training. Cullen had brought his officers (and some of the inner circle members) out to watch as he’d agreed days before – but this was not something he’d expected.

Solona personally overlooked her Grey Wardens, which wasn’t surprising. She was an excellent commander after all. What he hadn’t expected was a training schedule that was... near inhumane in severity. Mira looked ashen as she watched few Wardens reeling over, being sick. Maker, Solona has been running them for over four hours. It was… brutal.

Rylen winced as Solona whacked a Warden in the chest with her practice staff, knocking the man flat down. “Get back up!” She growled. The Warden painfully climbed back up, only to get knocked back again.

“Again.” Solona didn’t even blink.

“Commander. This is… borderline cruel ser.” Rylen was white in the face, mumbling quietly.

“Again!” Her words cracked like a whip. “Get this move down, Warden Mark. I expect improvements next time.” Tossing the staff at the man, she worked through the junior members one by one.

“Commander, should we not stop her?” Barris looked sick, as he watched a man gagging, bent over. “This has been going on for five hours, ser. It’s already midmorning, and they’ve been at it since before dawn.”

“I don’t think we should. Frankly, I don’t want her attention focused on us right now.” Mira muttered.

She winced as Solona flipped a Warden over, and rapped sharply into their ribs with a wooden sword. Poor woman dropped heavily, gasping in pain. Solona simply tossed the practice sword at her feet, and scanned the yard.

Nearly a third of her men were down, no longer able to stand up despite Oghren’s constant shouting and urges. Zevran stepped up lightly to her, avoiding the writhing forms on the ground and whispered something into her ear. She nodded.

“Halt!” Solona called out, and immediately all Wardens – those that were still standing – ceased their movements. She waited a beat, before continuing. “At ease, men. Good work for today, you’ve earned your rest. Go, you are all dismissed.”

Remaining Wardens simply collapsed on the field, unwilling to move. Avoiding the moaning men surrounding her, Solona carefully worked her way over to the observers.

“Commander. I’m surprised to see you’re still watching us.” She called out, waving her hand. He nodded back. Bull whistled, pointing his horned head over at the wreckage behind her. “You sure work them hard, General.”

“Some would say too hard.” Cassandra grumbled, her eyes following Bull’s horns. “I assume you count yourself amongst that, Seeker.” Solona mused. Her only response was Cassandra’s trademark grunt.

“I am sure you all have something to say about my methods. But this is hardly a place for such discussions, is it not? Why don’t we move this small gathering somewhere more appropriate? How about the war room? Or Commander’s office?”

“My office will do. We have much to discuss.” Cullen said, trying not to let worry color his words. Maker, was this the same gentle woman that he dreamed of each night? She certainly lived up to her titles in cases such as these.

Quietly, they all made their way into his small office on the battlements. Cullen noticed that Oghren remained with the Wardens, while Stroud followed.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Cullen confronted her.

“What were you thinking, First Warden? You will work your men to death! A blind man could see that you worked them far past their limits!” Solona did not seem even a bit fazed.

“Warden General, I must say that my opinions are of the same as the Commander’s.” Warden Stroud looked grim.

“Commander, if you would calm down I can explain.”

“Explain? We just watched to knock down your own Wardens over and over again until they were sick!” Mira seemed incredulous. “You said you would help us train with the mages? If you think we’ll stand by and just watch you mistreat our soldiers like the Wardens-”

“Mira, enough!” Rylen cut her off, for her own sake.

“Thank you, Knight-Captain. Now, I believe Bull has grasped the reasons behind my methods already. Would you like to do the honors, Bull?” Solona smiled at the qunari, who shrugged.

“It’s simple really. You can figure it out by just watching the men being trained.”

“What do you mean? We watched them all morning, but all I saw was men being worked to their graves.” Barris’s words were met with nods all around.

“Yeah, but I watched them since the General here fell out of the Rift.” Bull jabbed his massive fingers at her. “I do that. Part of the job, you know. Anyway, what you guys didn’t see was that Oghren wasn’t running her men anywhere near how hard she is today. A little rougher than our own soldiers, but nothing more.”

Cullen remembered that. “Continue.”

“Well, Boss. After General here finally woke up, she inspected her men then set up a new training schedule. The very next day, things changed.” Bull grinned. “Only a third of the Wardens in Skyhold were training.”

“A third?” Cassandra echoed, looking confused. But Cullen could see where this was going.

“Let me guess. And that third of Wardens training changed each day?” He guessed.

“Excellent, Commander.” Solona beamed. “Wardens have enhanced physical prowess and stamina due to the Joining ritual we endure. This allows my men to train for longer and harder than most soldiers. I run them as hard as they can take, because it will keep them alive on the battlefields.”

“But you don’t want your men caught unaware in case of an attack, so you split your forces into three groups. Two of them rests and recuperate while remaining one trains.” Cullen mused, and Solona nodded happily.

“Correct. One group is formed of more experienced Wardens, while another group is formed of junior members of the Order. The third one is evenly mixed. Each group contains both warriors and mages. That way, even if we are attacked, I will have at least one and a half group of Wardens in fighting state. The way I split them up, there will always be some experienced Warden available for battle. Each group is given at least three days of recuperation after training, and I have experienced healers looking after each and every members. The group you saw today was the one with younger members mixed with more experienced ones. Third of the men passing out by the end were junior members, and the rest were either more senior members or stronger young recruits.”

“But why? Why would you train your men so cruelly? You left those men lying in dust after the session was over.” Barris blurted out, unable to contain himself any longer.

“Ser Barris. What do you think our enemy does while we train? Do you think those red templars sleep? Grow fat on meat?” Solona’s eyes sparkled, distracting Cullen momentarily.

“No ser.”

“No, they don’t. In fact, they train. They train just as we do. To survive, we must go beyond what the enemy does. I force my men to go over their limits so they would survive countless battles they must face. We fight enemies with no honor. Backstabbing wretches that will do whatever it takes to bring us down. To win against such enemies without stooping low to their level, all we can do is train. Good leadership and tactics can save many lives, it’s true. But no matter how well a battle is planned, some soldiers will have to stand on front lines, and fight. No matter how much planning we do, those soldiers that are faced with demons will fight, and die if not trained properly. As Grey Wardens, my men will stand against the enemies in the front line the most. We fight darkspawn that crash into us wave after wave until nothing but piles of broken limbs remain. We now face demons that don’t grow tired. I train them so they can survive that. I train them for real battles, not a practice one. I leave them sprawled on the ground after trainings because that will one day save their lives. And I do not help them up because until you are off the battlefield, anything could happen. They may have to drag themselves off the war zone with two broken legs. If I help them now, I’m killing them later. I drag them to the brink of death now, while I can heal them so they can endure later.” She met their eyes unflinching.

“My methods are cruel, I know. But it keeps them alive. Rest assured, I will not be helping out by training your men the same way. They do not have our physical abilities, and it is simply not feasible. But by no means are my Wardens weak enough that they would die from my trainings.”

Slowly, everyone nodded their head in understanding. It was harsh, but it was true.

“Forgive me, General. It was not my place to question your orders.” Warden Stroud bowed deeply.

“No, you were right to state your misgivings. I am human, and I make mistakes just as anybody else. If you don’t speak up, I will never know. Continue to speak your mind, Warden Stroud. One day it may save many lives.” Cullen met her eyes, a newfound respect surely shining through.

“I am sure I’ve held you all back from your duties for long enough this morning. Please excuse me, I must go attend to my men. They should have managed to crawl to a healer’s tent by now – I have lot of bones to mend. Commander, please send me a messenger when you’re available to discuss the situation with the mages. Warden Stroud, find Warden Blackwall and bring him to me.” Solona stepped away, waving her hand. “Everybody, a pleasant day to you all.” Then she swept out of his office, leaving only her sweet scent behind.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Version. Here is the [link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4163601/chapters/27441195) for the remastered Second Chance for Him story.

Cullen found her in the healers’ tent as usual. Her magic was flowing thickly in the infirmary, the green-blue glow of healing spells wrapping her Wardens up. Few reports were grasped in one hand, while the other held a hand of one of the Wardens – Mark, he remembered. The one Solona beat into the dirt. He walked towards her as she looked up, smiling.

“Commander, this is Mark, one of the junior members of Orlesian Grey Wardens.” Solona nodded to the young man, perhaps twenty. His hair was auburn, and had green eyes. Solona’s hand was glowing blue, roaming over Mark’s body. The man looked mortified for some reason.

“Now Mark, if you would just sit  _still_ , I can get that rib fixed up!” Solona gently admonished him, her stern behavior from earlier nowhere to be found.

“Warden General, I possibly couldn’t… I mean you have to be resting, ser! And you have all these reports you have to read… I shouldn’t be taking up your valuable time.” Mark mumbled, looking scared.

“Nonsense. Healing my men is not a menial task to be delegated. Now, I think I bruised that rib, but it doesn’t feel like it’s broken. And if you wiggle, this will take longer.”

“But, serah! I’m not… worthy of your attention.” Mark continued to protest.

“Shut up, Mark. If you are so worried about taking up my time and energy with healing you, get that move down. If you block my attack properly, I won’t have to sit here and heal your ungrateful arse! So sit tight, get healed, get better, and practice! I am not a legendary figure for you to stare up at and worship! I am a human commander, and I intend to get to know my men as much as possible. So stop wiggling, and stop complaining.” As Mark opened his mouth again, Solona glared at him. “That’s an order, Mark.” The man finally stayed mute, his eyes rimmed with tears of wonder and happiness. Solona pretended not to see, looking up at Cullen.

“So, what can I do for you Commander?”

“I was wondering if you had time to discuss the general plans of training the mages with me. You said earlier that you had a general outline?” He knew he could have just sent a messenger, but he enjoyed seeing Solona every chance he could get.

“Of course, just give me a moment. I-”

A bark cut her off, as Barkspawn bounded towards them. Zevran was following closely behind, his arms full of reports.

“My dear Warden, correspondences for you.” Zevran smirked at Solona’s horrified face as he dumped the letters next to her.

“Maker, paperwork will be the death of me one day.” She groaned, looking at the large pile scattered over Mark’s bed. “Hero of Ferelden, death by suffocation as she got buried under reports.” Cullen couldn’t help his own smirk at her whining. He often felt the same whenever he looked at his own reports.

“Where am I even going to put all these? I refuse to bring these evil things into my bed!” She pouted, shoving them off of Mark’s legs as her hand moved down lower, healing the scrapes on the man’s knees.

She sent him a glare as Cullen coughed, trying to cover his laugh. She wasn’t fooled.

“If you wish, you could keep them in my office.” Cullen quickly offered. He didn’t want to get set on fire by irking her too much. “It’s already a breeding ground for reports. Few dozen more won’t make a difference. And we will work closely for the foreseeable future. It would make sense for us to share the office space.” Solona paused, her eyes thoughtful. Cullen’s heartbeat quickened at the thought of spending more time with her, in his enclosed office.

He mentally kicked himself.

“That is very kind of you Commander.” Solona smiled, nodding. She was oblivious to Cullen’s internal struggle. “Sharing an office seems like an excellent idea. Thank you.”

Her hands stopped glowing blue, and Solona looked back at the Warden. “Mark, you’re healed now. Go get something to eat and rest. It is important to get plenty of rest.” Standing up, she gathered the reports into her arms, and nodded for Cullen to move.

“Lead on, Commander.”

Zevran smirked. “She’ll take over your office in few minutes, you know. You’ll probably regret this.”

Shaking his head and chuckling, Cullen led them out of the infirmary.

 

*******

 

Solona didn’t ‘take over’ as Zevran suggested. Instead she dragged in a small table into a corner of his office, and rather sat quietly working through her letters. But she was…  _very_ distracting. His eyes slid over to her often, watching her chew her lips as she made notes and marks on her maps. Cullen wanted more than anything to kiss those soft red lips, tugging them free of her teeth.

And as always, with Solona came Zevran and Barkspawn. The dog laid by her feet, snoring gently while Zevran endlessly twirled his dagger between his hands, sitting on her desk or leaning against the chair she was sitting on. Solona’s focus didn’t waver even when Zevran sprawled over her back, drawing her into a loose hug as he buried his face in the nape of her neck and kissed her curve there. She gently kissed his cheeks and pointy ears, but her eyes remained trained on the reports. Despite all her grumblings, she looked over each and every letter carefully, working meticulously. She wasn’t one to shirk her duties.

Cullen’s soldiers stared curiously at the Warden General as they passed through his office. They were a little quieter than usual, intimidated by the living legend reading silently in the corner. His officers shared knowing looks, but kept their comments to themselves.

 Hours passed before Solona stirred again. Putting her quill down, she stood and stretched, moaning as her stiff muscles protested against the movement. Cullen looked over to her, curious.

“Done for the day?” He asked, and she nodded.

“Yes. Maker, it has been a while.” She groaned as Zevran ran his fingers down her back, his slender fingers pressing into knots that were sure to have formed there. The elf’s expression was gentle, his eyes concerned.

“My Warden, you work yourself far too hard. Forgot to eat again, no? Here, I brought some food for you.” He motioned at the plate forgotten on her desk with his chin, his hands still on her back. Solona smiled.

“Thank you, Zev. You’re a lifesaver. I was starving.” Solona grabbed at bread, and bit into it. Cullen could see the weariness in her sluggish movements.

“Warden General, it’s barely been days since you fell out of the Fade. You should be in bed, not working.”

Solona just smiled at him. “Cullen, you look exhausted the entire time I’ve been at Skyhold. Burden of command is a harsh thing.” That was when a knock sounded on his door.

“Enter” Cullen called out, and a man in mid-thirties stepped in. He was clearly a Grey Warden, as he was wearing the Order’s blue armor. And he carried a staff. The man bowed deeply to Solona before straightening. Solona moved closer to Cullen and the man.

“Commander, allow me to introduce Senior Warden Tanner. He was one of the few mages that was not bound to the Corypheus at the Adamant fortress. He is also a battle mage I trained myself back when I was the Warden Commander of Ferelden.”

“Warden Tanner, as you know this is Commander Cullen of the Inquisition forces. You will be working very closely with him for next few weeks.” The man saluted. “An honor, ser.”

“You see, Tanner was one of the mages that I conscripted earlier on after the Blight. He was there when I first made Templar-Mage teams among my Wardens. He saw all the problems first hand, and has experience working with Templars. He will help you incorporate the Inquisition mages into your army seamlessly.”

“You won’t be working with me on it?” Cullen tried to hide his disappointment.

“Oh I will. This is just for initial planning stages. Do not worry, Warden Tanner is very capable at this. I am just asking for him to step in for myself while I take care of something else.”

“Something else?” Cullen pressed her.

“Yes, well… Two things really. I have one very important Grey Warden matter to take care of, and it will most likely require all of my attention. And two, your templars and mages don’t trust each other. Before we form any sort of any training involving the two of them together, that needs to be fixed. And I am the one person that can get things set right in the shortest amount of time.”

Solona looked apprehensive and guilty suddenly, twisting her fingers. She peeked up at him through her eyelashes. “Can I tell your story to your men?” She blurted out.

“My story?”

“I noticed that nobody here knows what happened at Ferelden Circle. Not in detail. I think I can get mages and templars to work together by telling that story in a certain way, at a certain time. But that incident was… very painful for both of us. I won’t tell the story if you wish to keep your past to yourself.”

Cullen couldn’t help how his fists clenched tightly at the mention of Kinloch hold. Ghosts of sensations lingered on his skin. He could still feel the burn as blood mages had made his blood boil in his in his veins, torturing him with dreadful pain. The blue vial of relief beckoned for him from his desk drawer.

Her hands gently wrapped over his tight fists, her brown eyes tight with concern. His eyes met hers, and slowly, very slowly, he relaxed. Focusing on her scent, on her warmth, Cullen forced the tension out from his muscles.

“You’re certain it’ll help?” His voice was strained with the effort not to growl.

“Absolutely. I won’t ask this of you if I wasn’t.” Her eyes were filled with apology.

“Then you have my permission.” Cullen nearly choked on the words. But if his story could somehow help their cause, he would allow it. And he trusted Solona completely. If it was  _her_ , he would allow it.

“Thank you.” She replied simply. And yet, her eyes told him that she understood. She understood the pain it caused him to speak those words. Her hand tightened on him.

“I’m sorry, I need a moment to myself.” Cullen looked away, wishing she couldn’t see him so clearly, and yet relieved that she could. Squeezing his hand once more, Solona took her men and left him alone in his office. She understood that he needed time to compose himself once more, dragging his mind away from the hellish memories. Knew that he needed the time to clear his head of the demonic images of her seducing him.

Cullen prayed for the strength to resist the blue temptation in his drawer, the promise of sweet release from the pain.

“Smite me”

“…ser?”

“I said Smite me.”

Zevran leaned against the wall, his fingers spinning the small dagger deftly as he watched his Warden argue with the Knight-Captain.

His Warden never rested as she should. Zevran sighed, thinking of the hard schedule she set for herself at Skyhold. From the crack of dawn, Solona trained her men for hours, and then worked on Warden matters for rest of the day in Cullen’s office. She was planning something big – something bigger than anything’s she’s tried before. The blade in his hand flicked, as Zevran pondered the secret mission Solona set herself upon. Solona never hid anything from himself before. Whatever she was hiding must be big. Bigger than killing archdemon big.

And she always ate her meals –if she remembered to eat – with her Wardens. She examined and healed the men she broke during the trainings, before laughing and drinking with them heartily. She was attentive to each and every member of her Order, as much as she could afford.

And on top of that, now this. Zevran shared a look with Barkspawn as Rylen fumbled with words, looking lost facing Solona who was looking annoyed. She was hell vent on making the mages and templars play nice. And for some reason, she insisted on doing so while she was disconnected from the Fade. Not an easy task considering they were fighting a war before, but then his Warden never did anything easy.

“I am asking you to Smite me, Ser Rylen! It is not an insult to myself when I am asking you to do so.” Solona’s irritated voice brought a smirk to his face. Unlike her, Zevran knew just how intimidating she could be. He felt sorry for the man.

“Warden General, I really couldn’t…” Rylen glanced about, looking for a way to escape.

“If you don’t Smite me, I will take offense.” His Warden gave the man a glare, and his sharp ears picked up the sound as the man swallowed hard.

“Hit me as hard as you can, Knight-Captain.” She grinned, knowing she had him cornered. The templar sent a helpless glance towards himself, and Zevran only smiled amusedly. As if Zevran would hold Solona back from anything she wanted.

“Then… please pardon me.” The man looked dejected (and maybe little scared?) as he shook his head, giving in. He drew his arms out and a loud crash sounded exactly where Solona was standing, a cloud of dust rising around her.

Solona stumbled a little, dizzy from the attack, and Zevran quickly moved to steady her. Even if it was something she wanted, being severed from Fade made her very sick. She was always using her magic – to Solona it was like breathing.

Rylen looked horrified as Solona took a moment to reorient herself. As amusing as the man was, his Warden wasn’t one for torturing people for too long, however.

“Thank you, Knight-Captain. That’s exactly what I needed. I may need your help again in the future, but for now it will do.” She smiled gently at the man, her beautiful face helping him relax. “You can return to your duties now.”

The man saluted and left, looking confused. Zevran snorted. “My dear Warden. Was that truly necessary? Those Templars would be a fool to think you were any less dangerous because you couldn’t access your magic for a few minutes. Even few hours.”

Her eyes met his own, filled with warmth and love as always. Zevran loved how she completed him in such ways. And of course she was a sexy goddess to boot. “Those templars with more traditionalistic views will appreciate the symbolism.” She grinned. “You don’t have to follow me in there you know. You could go help Leliana do some shadowy deadly things instead. You like shadowy deadly things.”

“Surely you jest.” Zevran pecked a quick kiss on her soft lips, gently coaxing her mouth open with his tongue, enjoying the feeling. He would never grow tired of kissing her. His hand lingered on her right ear, gently rubbing the little earring hanging there. “Anywhere you go, my Warden. I will be there.” She smiled, and strode into the barracks, leading him and Barkspawn. The dog sent him a mildly disgusted look as they followed her in, the same look the dog threw at him every time Zevran kissed her. “You’re just jealous, my four-legged friend.” Zevran smiled as the dog gave an annoyed yip and a gagging sound.

They were blocked by a templar almost immediately within the barracks. A man with orange-ish red hair with flat green eyes and stubble stood in front of Solona, looking insulted.

“What do you think you’re doing here?” The man sneered. “The tower for the mage is next to the training yard.” Zevran took the man in. A classic bully, grouped with men holding similar opinions he assumed. Probably the extremists in the Inquisition Templar order that hates the mages.

“Well, Ser Templar. What makes you think I’m looking for the mages?” Solona asked brightly, catching the man off guard. “And who might you be? I’m sure you know who I am. Is it not fair for you to introduce yourself so I may no longer be at a disadvantage?”

The templar looked like he was going to object, but Zevran flashed a dagger he was playing with. The man better remember his manners, Zevran thought grimly. He couldn’t tolerate idiots that treated Solona badly. Anything less than reverence was usually unacceptable.

“It’s Mettin.” The man grumbled.

“Well, Ser Mettin. Care to share a drink together?” Solona strode past him quickly, calling over her shoulder before he could block her again. She sat down at a table, motioning for the man to join her. The templar looked furious, but marched away without a word.

But there were many others who eagerly swarmed to her, clamoring for her attention.

“Warden General! An honor, ser.”

“Warden General, is there something we can help you with?”

“Why is your magic off, General?”

Zevran smirked, amused at the crowd she gathered within seconds. Of course, it was Zevran she would always embrace, no matter how much others wanted her. These men and women lusting after her could only dream of her beauty, whereas Zevran held her in his arms each night. The thought filled him with pride, although he knew it was selfish to claim a woman such as her all for himself. But for ten years, she indulged his selfishness without a complaint, never once removing the earring he gave her during the Blight.

“I thought it’d be a good idea for me to get to know some of the men I’ll be working with.” Solona smiled. “And what better ways are there than to sit down, drink, and share a story or two?”

Soldiers and templars cheered loudly. Quickly, mugs of vile ale were scattered all over the table, and Zevran picked one up.

“I know you all aren’t used to mages being in here, so I asked Rylen to Smite me. For you lot that’s worrying your asses off quietly back there, I’ll leave once the effect wears off. You got that, Mettin? Oh, hello Tavish! Didn’t know your stern ass was here too!” Solona called out loudly, and Zevran could see the men flush red with anger.

Tavish… Tavish… the man looked familiar for some reason. Zevran tried to place the name, but a Templar beat him to it. She looked to Solona eagerly. “You know Ser Tavish from somewhere?” The woman looked almost giddy with excitement at talking to the Hero of Ferelden.

“Oh yes. Knight-Commander Tavish was at Denerim during the Blight. I turned in some evidence regarding lyrium abuse to him. Ungrateful ass, cracking down on the mages.” Solona laughed with the men surrounding her, gulping down the ale.

Zevran didn’t drink though. His hands hovered near his daggers, even while his body was completely relaxed. Solona was a mage, in middle of templar barracks. Zevran wasn’t going to let his guard down, just in case a zealot decided to rush them.

“A mage should not be drinking alcohol! The chant is very clear!” Mettin’s heated words cut through the bubble surrounding them.

“Shut up, Mettin. This isn’t the Gallows anymore!” A man called out next to Zevran. “Hell, we aren’t technically Templars anymore. Let up a bit, dumb-wit!”

“We swore an oath!” The man replied angrily.

“Ser Mettin, I cannot access my magic since I was Smote by Knight-Captain Rylen. There is no danger of my magic going out of control. In addition to that, since I am a Grey Warden, I am no longer bound by the chantry rules. You may rest easy.” Solona gently scolded him, and Mettin just scowled. Zevran itched to teach the brute a lesson, his fingers twitching on his daggers.

Solona noticed, and sent him a pointed glare. Meekly, Zevran moved his hands to the table, showing her they were empty.

“I’ll pay for every mug of ale with a story from my travels! Who’s interested?” Solona shouted, making sure her words could be heard by everyone in the common area. Thundering cheer rose up from the gathered men.

His Warden was an excellent story teller – all templars (even Mettin and his group) hung on every word she uttered. Her adventures were outrageous – Zevran knew that better than most. He got dragged into every single one of them with her after all. With alcohol mixed in with loud laughter and excellent story material, the audience was entranced by her recollections of crazy events. Sometime during the night, many more off duty soldiers, servants, and merchants joined them in the barracks. Solona drank four mugs that night before her magic returned to her.

From the way all the Templars in the room tensed at the same time, Zevran could tell the exact moment Solona gained her powers again. She quickly drained the mug – there wasn’t much left anyway – and stood. Zevran and Barkspawn followed her quickly, wary of the Mettin and his small templar group.

“Well it seems my magic’s returned. And from the way my head is spinning, I assume I’ve had more than enough to drink as well! It’s time for me to retire for the night.” Solona stretched, and moved towards the door. The crowd moaned and whined, protesting.

“Sorry! Magic’s come back, means it’s time for me to go!” Solona called out. The people booed. “Tell you what, I’ll come back the day after tomorrow, and continue this on if anybody’s interested.” The people roared with happiness. Laughing at their enthusiasm, Solona left the barracks, with Zevran and Barkspawn trailing behind. Zevran let out a quiet sigh of relief, the cool night air making his breath visible. Nobody tried to kill her this time. Zevran prayed that things would remain so for the next few days.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Version. Here is the [link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4163601/chapters/27441195) for the remastered Second Chance for Him story.

Zevran scaled the rough wall quickly, his fingers grasping at the chilled stone with confidence. It was too dark to properly see the cracks and ledges in the wall even with his strong elven eyes, but Zevran wasn’t like most people who needed to see in order to climb safely.

No, Zevran was much more than most people. He was an Antivan Crow. He smiled to himself as he felt for the slight cracks in the battlements, the yellow glow from the torches held by Inquisition scouts throwing dark shadows over himself. Zevran knew he wouldn’t get caught, not even by Leliana’s people. She trained them well, her being a former bard and all, but even his favorite redhead could not match his skills when it came to sneaking around unnoticed. He _was_ one of the best in the game after all.

Zevran was scouting out Skyhold while Solona was trapped by her duties as the First Warden. It was just as well – their assassins would most likely try for her while he was away, letting their guards down. Of course, they would feel his icy blade slicing through their throat before they got anywhere close to his Warden.

He settled comfortably below a window where he could hear the soldiers talking inside. Solona appreciated the gossip he brought back from his night time adventures – she said it helped her gauge the state of the men fairly easily. But Zevran didn’t stay for long that night – no, tonight Zevran had more urgent matters to take care of. Running lightly over the roof tops, Zevran jumped out into the dark night.

Zevran worked through each area of Skyhold efficiently, sweeping the area with his practiced eyes for any indication of traps and hidden assassins. He knew exactly what to look for – again, he was the best assassin there was. The Undercroft was clean. So were the stables, the barracks, armory, tavern, and jails. As expected, Leliana’s people kept out undesirables effectively.

In the gardens, close to where his Warden was staying, Zevran found two Crows. Laughing quietly at the absurdity of Crows sending only two – _two!_ – Crows after them, Zevran quickly slit their throats. Only sound he made as he struck the killing blow – the only blow - was the whistling of wind as his daggers split the air. The night remained silent.

After wiping the blood off of his daggers on the miserable assassins, Zevran quietly melted away into the shadows once more. His job still wasn’t done. Two lowly Crows were hardly worth his attention – Solona could kill them with a flick of her finger. Zevran sneaked across the Main Hall of Skyhold, avoiding the guards with ease. His goal tonight was much more annoying than two of his former brothers-in-arms.

He stepped silently down the stairs, thanking the soft worn boots he wore. They were the very same pair Solona had given him during the Blight. Despite the years past, they still remained his favorite – and most useful – boots he owned. The soft high dragon leathers she went out of her way to procure for this special pair of boots allowed him to move without a whisper of noise.

Smiling proudly at his own stealth, Zevran pushed the door open that led to the kitchens. As he had expected, it was empty of the servants that usually bustled about. He had timed himself perfectly. Zevran chuckled – he truly was the best assassin in Thedas. Of course, how could he not be? Zevran wouldn’t accept anything other than perfection, not while he was Oathsworn to Solona. She deserved only the best he could possibly offer.

Feeling out the dark room with his fingers, Zevran sniffed the ingredients the servants have prepared for cooking the next day. It wasn’t long before he caught the scent he was looking for. His face twisted in anger and disgust, as his sensitive nose identified the deathroot mixed in with other inconspicuous herbs. He knew the plant caused horrible hallucinations that could drive the victim into crazy murderous rush – he’s used it himself before on his targets. His frown deepened as he identified blood lotus as well – mixed together with deathroot, the poisonous effects would have tripled. And clinging to both poisonous plants was a smell he despised – the pompous perfume of artificial lavender that Jane Trevelyan of Ostwick reeked.

He crushed his white-hot rage that was boiling over, forcing his fingers to put the bundles of herbs back down exactly as it was before. He focused on leaving the kitchen quietly again, fuming. They all had suspected it, but actually finding the proof threatened to overwhelm him with rage.

Skirting the guards again, Zevran padded up to Leliana’s perch at the top of the tower. Her crows cowed, welcoming him as their own. Leliana looked up expectantly, meeting his eyes. Oghren was there too.

They had fought together throughout the Blight, protecting each other’s backs. They didn’t need words to communicate with one another anymore, their ties cemented by their mutual love of Solona and years of trust built. Leliana and Oghren’s face darkened as soon as they saw Zevran’s.

“It is as we suspected then?” Leliana’s soft voice was icy. Zevran nodded, anger still bubbling within him.

“I found deathroot and blood lotus. She really wanted to poison her. And she’s planning on trying again.” He hissed as he sat down opposite of her.

“I say we break a few bones! Bitch needs to be taught a lesson.” Oghren’s voice was loud and wet as always, but Zevran agreed with the dwarf.

“My Warden hates being poisoned. That witch crossed a line.” Zevran’s fingers stroked his daggers’ pommels unconsciously. His mind flashed back to the meal earlier that day – when Solona’s hand flashed with aqua-green light, covering her stomach after eating a pie Trevelyan had passed her. Most of the others at the table missed it – but Solona couldn’t fool her old companions. They were too attuned to her. She had healed herself at that moment – healed herself of poison.

The Inquisitor had dared to poison Solona.

“Did Solona say anything about it?” Leliana’s finger tapped impatiently on the wooden table, and Zevran shook his head. Solona usually complained when she was poisoned – she hated fighting things she couldn’t burn with her magic – until Zevran went and found the offending party, ending the threat. And yet this time, she remained uncharacteristically quiet.

“We know she’s right. We can’t do anything about this.” Leliana’s voice reflected the frustrations he felt. Oghren opted for pouring some vile liquid down his throat, clearly hating the prospect of doing nothing.

“At least stop her from poisoning her again.” Zevran’s eyes bore into Leliana’s. _Or I will end this my way_.

Leliana nodded grimly, and he knew she heard his unsaid words. He would kill all the servants if need be, until Trevelyan mixed the poison herself. And the moment she did so, his blade would bury itself in her chest. Leliana and Oghren both understood that.

Nodding to his friends, Zevran stood back up. Everything that needed to be said was already exchanged with their looks, each of them already familiar with others’ thoughts. As he turned to leave, Zevran remembered the hostiles he encountered earlier that night. His eyes returned to Leliana’s.

“Leliana-” He began.

“Where and how many?” She sighed, resigned. Zevran smirked.

“Only two. Bodies are in the bushes in the garden. By the elfroots.”

“I’ll take care of it.” Throwing one last crooked smile at the Spymaster and the Senior Warden, Zevran left the tower, resuming his sweep of the keep.

 

*******

 

To his slight disappointment, Zevran didn’t encounter any more assassins that night. Skyhold stayed peaceful, much to his annoyance. His anger was still simmering beneath his skin, ready to burn brightly at the slightest chance. He needed to work out the frustrations he felt, and yet Crows couldn’t bother to send more of their men after them. He tutted his tongue.

With the last look about around the merchant court, Zevran scaled the battlements for the last time that night. He only had one more stop to make. Perhaps the most important one. Running silently like the wind, Zevran sprinted along the high walls, until he could see the guards standing at attention by the doors. He jumped over the wall, clinging with his tips of his fingers and toes only as the shadows wrapped him softly. With ease, he climbed to the top of the roof, avoiding the doors and the prying eyes.

Stepping carefully, Zevran moved to the center of the roof where the gaping hole provided an excellent view of the room underneath. The moonlight softly lit up every detail he wished to see.

The strapping Commander of Inquisition was asleep on his bed.

Smile twitched his lips as Zevran settled down to watch. He’s made this stop multiple times before, as Zevran was intrigued by the handsome man. The man was almost always awake, no matter what ungodly hours Zevran stopped by to check on him.

His eyes took in the frown etched deeply into the man’s face as the Cullen tossed and turned, grunting and moaning his Warden’s name. Strangely, Zevran didn’t mind the fact that the man was in love with her. Then again, nearly everybody was in love with his Warden.

It was easy enough to see the love Zevran felt for her reflected in the Commander below. The all-encompassing love that burned and consumed everything else, making Zevran stronger. Making him whole. He’s seen it in himself, and he’s seen it in Alistair. And now, he saw it in Cullen.

He was dedicated, running the Inquisition army effectively no matter the hour. And he always moaned Solona’s name in his sleep. He smirked, knowing he himself was willingly trapped by Solona’s love as much as Cullen was. He wondered why the man didn’t act on the love he felt for his Warden. The man acted as if he was nothing more than a professional acquaintance, always addressing her with her titles and keeping a steady distance whenever she was around.

But during the nights when he was alone, Cullen moaned and groaned her name in his sleep. Zevran chuckled as he watched the man thrash in the bed. For someone who got next to no sleep, he sure was energetic. Silvery moonlight gave him clear view of the man’s groin – Cullen’s trousers were tented, hinting at the impressive size. Zevran licked his lips, as sudden flash of desire bolted through his body at the sight.

Zevran watched for a few more moments, wondering if there would be any chance of intimacy between the man and himself. Zevran wouldn’t seduce him, of course – not while Solona didn’t approve. But if she was willing to start something with the man along with himself… Zevran chuckled lowly at the pleasing thought. His idle musings were cut off shortly though when with a sudden start Cullen woke, screaming her name after wrestling with his sheets and pillows quite roughly. Zevran winced at the unexpected outburst, his sensitive ears ringing. Careful to avoid being seen, Zevran climbed back down the wall, avoiding the guards once again – sneaking was a second nature to him by now – and stepped lightly back to his Warden’s room. Amused smile played at his lips all the way back.

 

*******

 

Zevran shouldered the door open as his hands drew his daggers from the scabbards. He needed to clean the blades – Crows’ blood was still splattered over it. And these were one of his finest daggers. He didn’t mind though. The feeling of cleaning his blades was always comforting and relaxing. His fingers traced the edge of his dagger, his eyes searching for the…

He stopped short, shock dropping his jaw wide. The daggers fell from his limp fingers, clattering loudly against the chilly stone floor.

His love lay in the bed, smiling seductively. She wore nothing but her smalls which was already drenched with her juice, and his eyes greedily drank her in. Solona had her knees bent and spread out, giving him an unobstructed view of her soaked pussy as she rubbed herself slowly, her slender fingers making lazy circles and strokes against her lower lips. Her other hand was lightly massaging her breasts, her fingers gently brushing against her tight nipples. One candle burned low next to the bed, basking her flawless skin in warm golden glow. Her thick black mane was spread around her shoulders, waiting for his hands to get entangled in it.

He felt a groan ripping itself out from his throat, his attention completely focused on the woman throwing sly smiles at him. His hands clenched into tight fists by his sides and Zevran shuddered. Void take him, she was _perfect._

And yet he tried to reign himself in, trying to crush the roaring fire coursing through his blood. He hadn’t laid his hands on her since the Adamant keep – she needed the rest. No matter how… convincing she was, Zevran knew her body inside and out. His love – Warden – was injured and exhausted, in need of rest. Not, he stressed to himself, the rough tumbling in bed Zevran desperately wanted.

“Zev…” She sighed, her eyes locked into his, and Zevran’s treacherous cock twitched. Her fingers glided over her slick smalls, and she moaned for him.

“My dear Warden, surely you understand this is not what the healer ordered?” His voice came out more as a growl than light teasing tone he’d intended to use. He held his body rigid, afraid that he would pounce on her. She needed rest, she needed healing. He chanted in his mind. His Warden had been stranded for a month in the Fade – she needed rest, she needed healing.

“I am a perfectly capable healer.” She huffed, her fingers never ceasing their slow motions against fabric covering her flesh – flesh that would be glistening underneath with her essence. “I say I’m ready for some exercise now. All this eating and sleeping is making me grow fat and lazy.”

Zevran’s cock throbbed, and he had to take in a slow breath to calm himself. “My wicked Warden, what did you hope to gain by springing this magnificent trap on your unsuspecting assassin? Surely our roles are reversed?”

“Well if a certain devilishly handsome elf decided to fuck my brains out like I asked him to, there would have been no need for a trap, hmm? No, instead I have to lie here naked, touching myself for _hours_ , thinking of you…”

With a strangled groan, Zevran threw himself into her waiting embrace, his lips meeting her soft ones with burning heat. She tasted as sweet as honey to his exploring tongue, and she sighed happily into him.

“Void take you, woman!” He growled, knowing he’d lost. There was no way he could resist her when she was his every desire come to life. She giggled against his mouth, savoring her victory.

Zevran’s fingers ran down the length of her body, rubbing and massaging her skin lightly. He knew her body by heart – every sensitive spot, every inch of her skin, every soft sigh she let out etched deeply into his very soul – and realized that she was telling the truth. She was on verge of her climax already, delayed by rubbing herself through the smalls and avoiding her clit. She’d been waiting for him, denying herself the release she desperately needed in favor of Zevran being the one to give it to her. He kissed her with renewed fervor, biting and nipping her lips, her ears, her neck, then licked the red blossoming on her skin to soothe it.

She wiggled beneath him. “Zev, your armor! Off!” She tugged at the bloody gloves on his hands.

He got off promptly, realizing how rough and chafing his leather armor must feel against her sensitized skin. Sending her an apologetic grin, Zev started to work the armor off of himself slowly. The desperate desire he felt was still there, coiled deep in his belly, but he struggled to control it.

He watched as her eyes followed his movements closely, appraising his lean muscles flexing as each piece came off. He discarded them on the floor, not caring where it landed as long as it was off. She ground herself into the bed, whimpering quietly as her eyes traveled down from his shoulders to chest, to his flat belly, then finally to his groin.

When the last scrap of clothing fell over his now-forgotten daggers, Zevran climbed back onto the bed, and settled himself above her. His already erect cock rubbed against her soaked smalls as he took her right nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking gently.

She cried out loud, her eyes fluttering at the contact. He wondered just how long she’s been waiting for him. He’d been scouting for about two hours…

“Zev…” She moaned, her voice losing the teasing tone it held earlier. “Now, Warden. I’m sure you can wait a while longer?” He chuckled, knowing his breath would wash over her sensitive breasts, making her writhe. She did – and her pussy rubbed deliciously against his rock-hard cock. He groaned softly.

Hooking his fingers into her smalls, he slowly, oh so _slowly_ , dragged the last piece of clothing down her long legs, exposing the swollen flesh. She smelled marvelous.

“Zev! You made me wait for far too long. I don’t… I don’t want to wait any more.” She tried to wrap her legs around him, but Zevran wasn’t going to let her. He intended to draw this out, so she could feel it. She deserved only the best after all.

“Ah, but you must pay the price for seducing your unsuspecting, innocent assassin.” He nipped at her ear with his earring in it, drawing a sigh. He worked his hips, sliding his cock against her slick entrance over and over again, but not entering, just hinting at what was to come. No, he would tease her mercilessly, until she begged. It wouldn’t take long – her body was already shuddering, grasping for the release he would eventually give her.

She whimpered, trying to raise her hips, trying to take him inside her. Zevran withdrew, denying them both of the pleasure while his lips began leaving a feather-light trail of kisses down her body. His lips gently sucked and nipped at her breasts, her taut stomach, her inner thighs. Her breath grew shorter the lower his mouth traveled.

He paused when he reached her center, and his love cried out her frustrations. Deciding that she’s waited long enough, his tongue licked her in one slow sensuous stroke. She let out the most delicious moan he could have hoped for, and his cock twitched in response. Her voice alone could make his cock throb, blood pounding through his veins. Hooking her legs over his shoulders, he grabbed her by the hips with his hands, holding her in place.

“You taste fantastic as usual, my dear Warden. Divine.” He let out a cool breath, and watched as her muscles clenched, searching for something to grip onto. He licked her along the slit, slowly, up the one side, and down the other. He avoided the clit begging for attention – that would come later. He lapped at her gently, tasting her. It’d been far too long since he’s last devoured her.

“Zev, by Andraste’s ass, if you tease me any longer I’m going to set the bed on fire!” To his amusement, he noticed that her hands indeed were glowing faintly. He took it as a sign of encouragement, and continued savoring her at his leisure, ignoring the desperate tightness growing in his balls. Her hands glowed brighter.

Forcing her to stay still with his hands gripping her hips, Zevran continued his slow excruciatingly pleasurable torture until thin tendrils of smoke began to rise from where her hands were clutching at the sheets. Then, without warning, he caught her pearl between his lips and sucked hard, while plunging two fingers into her deeply and crooking them back towards himself. She screamed, arching off the bed, her body reacting exactly the way he’d wanted it to. He pumped his fingers inside her as she clenched and shuddered around him, drawing out her orgasm as long as he could, his tongue flicking her swollen clit mercilessly. She bucked hard against his fingers, crying out incomprehensible words mixed with his name as she ground herself into his hand.

He felt a sudden blazing heat as she hurled a fireball at the stone wall behind him, and smiled against her twitching pussy. Solona rarely lost her control of magic, her indomitable willpower locking down her power firmly. Whenever she did lose it during her orgasms, Zevran took it as a job well done. He glanced back quickly, and chuckled when he saw the scorch marks left behind on the stone walls. The servants would be wondering about that for a while.

She lay panting, little tremors shaking her slightly as her orgasm slowly subsided. He kissed her clit gently before climbing up, kissing her lips. Her tongue darted out, licking her essence off of his lips, and sighed.

“Enjoyed?” He smiled, and she nodded, burying her face into the nape of his neck. Her arms wound around him, hugging tightly. He was about to lie down next to her when her leg suddenly hooked behind his knee and pulled, making him fall on top of her with a grunt at the sudden loss of his balance.

With a swift thrust of her hips angled for easy access, she drew his throbbing cock into herself down to the hilt, stretching and straining to accommodate him. As his cock spread her wide open, Zevran groaned and pumped his hips, unable to help himself as her sopping wet pussy gripped him tightly. Solona batted her eyes at him, smiling mischievously even as she let out a breathy gasp. “But not satisfied. Not until you fuck me with your cock, Zev.”

Silently praising her Warden stamina, Zevran set a hard pace, slamming her into the mattress. All thoughts of slowly teasing her fled from his mind as his cock drove in again and again into her depth. He could no longer think of a smart retort, his mouth busy kissing every inch of her, lightly licking and biting the nape of her neck. She mewled beneath him, meeting his every thrust with her own. Her slick nectar soaked the sheets and Zevran panted.

Solona arched in to a long sensuous bow as he pounded into her, and Zevran whispered heartfelt endearments into her ear when he wasn’t busy licking and sucking. Holding her flush against his body with one arm, he snaked his other hand up to her breast, tugging and twisting her nipples with his fingers. Her thrusts became more urgent, her muscles clenching around his cock even tighter than before. “Zev, please!” She sobbed out in between the burning bites and kisses, and he obliged. Anything she wanted, he would give it to her.

Pinching her nipples hard, Zevran timed his thrust with each tug and roll with his fingers. When he felt her thighs quivering with the need, he abandoned her breasts and pressed his fingers into her pearl, rubbing and pressing down with his fingers drenched in her excitement. Solona’s nails dug into his back, her mouth opening in silent scream as he sent her hurtling over the edge once more. Electric lightning sparks flew around them, and the candle burned out as huge flame engulfed it. Her pussy contracted around his cock in erratic rhythm, milking him and Zevran followed her into mindless bliss, spilling himself into her.

Spent, he dropped next to her, and they panted together in the darkness. He drew her into his arms, legs entwined, hugging tightly as their breathing slowly returned to normal.

“See? I told you I was fine.” She snuggled into him, burrowing deeper. Zevran chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “You are impossible, my dear Warden. But it is my pleasure to serve the whims of my deadly sex goddess. Nonetheless, may I point out that if you were truly ‘fine’, we’d have gone at least two more rounds?”

Sighing happily, she placed her head on the crook of his neck and smacked her hand lightly against his chest. He knew from experience she’d fall asleep within few moments.

“My Warden? I had a question for you.”

“Hmm?” She mumbled sleepily, already halfway into the Fade.

“What is it between you and the dashing Commander?” He asked.

Solona suddenly stiffened, her eyes opening wide. All traces of sleep had disappeared from her face. Zevran hadn’t expected such an alarmed response and hastily explained himself.

“It’s not that I’m jealous, my Warden, just curious. It is clear that you two are more than acquaintances, no matter how hard he tries to hide it. And you avoid him as much as possible. You don’t avoid anyone, my dear Warden. Did you break his heart back in the Circle? You always talked about him often enough. Visited him secretly in Kirkwall.”

“Zev, what did you see?” Her fingers were curled into a small fist against his torso.

“He moans your name every night.” He admitted. “Whenever he sleeps, though that isn’t often. That man is always awake. But when he sleeps, he calls out your name.” Zevran didn’t tell her about the man’s stiff cock though. He didn’t know what she’d think of that.

Unexpectedly, his love’s eyes filled with tears. He raised himself on his elbow, looking down at her, confused. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. It wasn’t my place.” Whatever in Fade has happened between them? Solona rarely cried.

“No, Zev. It’s fine. It’s nothing you said.” She rubbed furiously at her eyes. “You deserve to know too.” She sniffed. Zevran waited, apprehensive. His hand softly stroked her cheeks.

“You see, he was my first love.” She breathed out after a moment, steeling herself. “Back when I was still in the Circle. I was head over heels in love with him.” She flushed red. Zevran kissed her forehead lightly, encouraging her to go on.

“I left abruptly when I was recruited by Duncan – you know what happened – and when I returned to the Circle after Ostagar to request help, things had changed.” Zevran nodded. He knew the story – Circle was before he joined up her ragtag group, but they often shared their tales.

“I arrived too late. Days had passed since Uldred had thrown the Circle into chaos. By the time I got into the tower, nearly everyone had been corrupted by Uldred. Wynne managed to protect few apprentices. All templars were possessed by demons – all but one.” Solona shook with anger, and Zevran held her tighter.

“I found Cullen trapped in a magical barrier on the top floor of the tower. They tortured him, Zev. No food, no water, no lyrium. He was delusional. He was kneeling, praying, amidst rotting corpses of his templar friends. I don’t know how he managed to withstand the blood mages and demons for so long.” Her lips curled in a silent snarl. “Uldred gave him to three desire demons. They tortured him in the most vile ways imaginable. And they used me to do so. They used my image to try to break him.”

Zevran felt his face draining of color. All the thrashing, screaming the man went through in his bed – Cullen wasn’t living out his fantasies of Solona. No, the man was relieving his tortures. Zevran briefly imagined what it would feel like, and felt sick at the notion of his Warden being used against him in such ways.

“Every time Cullen sees my face, he must remember the demons wearing my image. Every second I spend next to him, Cullen is forced to relieve that time back in the tower, the demons sifting through his mind. That’s why I avoid him.” Solona’s cheeks were wet with silent tears.

“You still love him.” Zevran realized.

“I don’t know, Zev. I can’t love him. My very existence hurts him terribly.” Solona shook her head, burying her face into his chest as she pulled him back down onto the bed next to her. “I love you Zev. You know that.”

“My dear Warden. You can love more than one person at a time.” Zevran ran his fingers through her thick silky hair. “It is nothing to be ashamed of. You taught me that yourself years ago.” His mind briefly flashed back to his fellow Crow Rinna. His last mission before he met his Warden. When he confessed what he’d done to Solona, she’d told him to continue loving her, cherishing his memories of her. She still encouraged him to talk about Rinna every now and then.

“I don’t think I ever outgrew my love for him.” She admitted quietly. “But I’ve hurt him enough, Zev. The best I can do for him is to kill Corypheus and get out of his sight as soon as possible. He doesn’t need to relieve the worst days of his life over and over again.”

She closed her eyes, warm tears flowing down her lovely face. Stroking her hair, Zevran lay awake as her breathing deepened and slowed, his mind mulling over the information she’s just given him. He couldn’t help but shudder at the thought of what the man must endure, and felt a rush of newfound respect for the Commander.

Cullen suffered every time Solona was around him. And yet, the man was brave enough to admit that he loved her, despite all that torture. He lightly kissed her hair, as she mumbled and snuggled closer in her sleep. She loved the man – her very first love no less. Zevran lay awake for long time that night, wishing he could somehow ease the guilt Solona felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First nsfw scene I ever wrote


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Version. Here is the [link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4163601/chapters/27441195) for the remastered Second Chance for Him story.

“You’re late, Barris!” Cullen barked out, annoyed, as his lieutenant rushed in through his door.

“Sorry, Commander.” He quickly strode forward to stand in front of his table.

“Don’t be so hard on the man, Curly.” Hawke drawled out, lying sprawled across Solona’s table in the corner of his office. He was staring up at the report he was holding with his hand, one he picked up from the table. His other hand was behind his head, using it as a pillow.

“My cousin’s been using him endlessly. Cut him some slack.”

“Warden General? What has she been doing with you?” Barris looked worried, which made Cullen more curious.

“First Warden has been… requiring my Templar services, ser.” Barris didn’t meet Cullen’s eyes. Templar services?

“What the man’s trying to say is, Solona’s been bullying him into Smiting her every other night for the past few days.” Hawke called out.

Cullen’s jaw dropped.

“You’ve been _Smiting_ Warden General? Are you out of your mind?!”

“Curly! I said she bullied him into doing it!” Hawke finally got off the table, throwing him an annoyed look. “Don’t go smacking your man around for it. The poor man’s been getting dogged by the entire Skyhold for the past few days.”

Cullen glared at Hawke. “Explain.”

“Ser. Warden General requested me to Smite her, so that she could enter the templar barracks without causing anxiety to the men.”

“My cousin was adamant that it be Barris who Smite her. She wouldn’t let any other Templar do it. Except Rylen, but he is at Griffon Wing Keep at the moment. Wonder why she didn’t ask _you_ to do it.”

Ignoring Hawke’s last comment, Cullen returned his gaze to the lieutenant. The man seemed flustered.

“She said she just didn’t want to bother you ser. I’m sure she means nothing by it. You’re her Templar after all.”

“I’m her _what_?”

Barris looked mortified, and Hawke swooped in. “For Maker’s sake, you know it’s true so don’t deny it. Anyway, you didn’t know? The entirety of Skyhold knows she goes to the barracks and mage tower alternatively every night.”

Cullen didn’t know. Whenever Solona was in his office, he was distracted by her. Whenever she wasn’t, his withdrawal symptoms left him writhing on his bed floor, gasping in pain, his mind bombarded with the images of Solona he’s endured during his torture in Kinloch Hold.

“I’ve been busy. What’s she doing?”

“She’s been telling stories and drinking ser. Her adventures.”

“I stopped a qunari invasion. It’s a good story! Romantic duel against the arishok himself! But it pales next to her tales. And she tells stories very well. Put Varric’s storytelling to shame. He’s been attending every gathering she called, learning.” Hawke chuckled. “She tells the stories so well that the templars beg Barris to Smite her, so she would tell more.”

“Wait. What?” Hawke looked at his confused face and whistled. “You really don’t know? Have you been living under a rock? Solona enters the barracks, drinks, and pays for her drinks with her stories. But only while she can’t use her magic. The moment her magic comes back, she leaves the barracks. And she only lets Barris Smite her. Said as the First Warden, she can’t let anybody Smite her easily. So the templars end up chasing Barris all over the keep.” Hawke’s smile grew sly. “And she tells the exact same stories at the mages’ tower the next night. Except she uses her magic to projects images of her story for the mages. Lures the templars into the tower to watch, especially those that were on duty and missed her little party.”

Cullen finally grasped what Hawke was hinting at. “She’s trying to bring them together. Using her stories as bait, she’s making them spend more time together.” Maker, it was perfect. He finally understood why she said it had to be her bringing the two groups together.

“A fine bait it is, ser. I’ve heard few tales myself, and it was completely addictive. I’m heading over to the mages’ tower tomorrow to catch what I’m missing today.” Barris looked a little sheepish.

“And she can drink! Must be an Amells thing.” Hawke laughed, pleased with himself. “She really knows how to raise morals for sure. Get shitfaced with them.” Barris chuckled along, nodding in agreement.

Cullen waved, drawing back his lieutenant’s attention. “Alright. Whatever she needs, provide it.”

He hesitated, then added, “Make sure you don’t hurt her.”

Barris saluted “Yes, Commander.”

Just then, his door opened and Dorian walked in. He clapped his hands together and rubbed, looking happy.

“Ah, yes. Exactly who I was looking for. Would you care for a game of chess, Commander?”

“Does _anybody_ care that I have hundred things to do?” Cullen asked, exasperated.

“Are you scared? Well, I can indeed be very imposing.” Dorian stroked his mustache, looking smug.

“Hardly.” Cullen snorted, and motioned for the mage to drag the chair over from the corner. “I’ll wipe that smirk off your face. Get the board ready.” As Dorian started to set the pieces down, Cullen handed the reports to Barris. “Look these over, make a copy, and hand them off to Sister Leliana. You are dismissed.” The man saluted and hurried out, looking happy. Probably off to listen to Solona’s stories.

Hawke sat down on the table, looking at the board and making few comments as Cullen and Dorian played. The insufferable mage – Dorian in this case – Cullen knew way too many insufferable mages - cheated. Wondering if Dorian truly thought he was fooling Cullen, he moved his pieces to corner the Dorian’s queen.

“Gloat all you want, I have this one.” He smiled, certain of his victory.

“Are you… _sassing_ me, Commander? Didn’t know you had it in you.” Dorian smirked, and Cullen shook his head. As Hawke was about to make some smart comment, his door banged open and Oghren and Zevran walked in.

“Would you look at that? Gang’s right here!” The dwarf took a long swig out of his wineskin as he looked over Cullen’s office. Zevran walked in with a swagger in his step, looking bored. But to his surprise, Solona was nowhere to be found.

“Why are you not with the First Warden, Zevran?” Cullen asked, facing the elf. He noticed that Dorian switched another of his pieces out of the corner of his eyes.

“My dear Warden is being swarmed by your men. I decided to go try my luck at seducing Dorian.” Zevran leaned over the table, looking at the chessboard as Oghren grumbled and sat heavily on the sacks in his office.

“Seducing me?” Dorian raised his perfect eyebrows at the elf, and Zevran grinned. The handsome elf’s eyes greedily drank in the mage and sighed.

“You and the strapping Commander. I have a reputation to uphold, you see.” His throaty voice immediately brought heat into Cullen’s cheeks, as Dorian laughed. “Oh I understand. Understand that quite well. With my impeccable fashion sense, you could hardly let me go without a taste.”

Cullen focused on the chessboard, avoiding eye contact with either men.

“How about it, Commander? You look so tired. Running an army can be stressful, no? I have these massage skills one only learns growing up in an Antivan whorehouse.” Zevran leaned in, his breath tickling Cullen’s ear. He hastily scrambled backwards, moving further into his chair. Hawke burst out laughing at that, falling off the table.

Cullen was far too occupied to deal with the mage at the moment though. “You… you… what about Solona?” He blurted out angrily. “You would dare do this to her? You are lucky enough to have _her!_ ”

Zevran looked stunned for a moment at his unexpected outburst. Cullen stood up, nearly upsetting the chess board as he stared down at the elf. “Solona deserves better.” He growled out, anger boiling over.

Zevran leaned back, putting up his hands. “Commander, I jest. I have no intention of hurting her.” His voice lost the lascivious tone from earlier. “Truly. I have not bedded anyone other than her and Alistair for the past decade.” Zevran grimaced, despite the amusement still dancing in his eyes. “Quite a blow to my ego, but there you have it.”

Cullen’s anger dissipated as quickly as it had come. As silly as it was, he believed the man. Remembering the way Zevran had been while Solona was in the Fade, Cullen couldn’t doubt him. Sitting back down, he glared at the man, just for good measures. Zevran just grinned.

“Does this mean I don’t get to take you to bed?” Dorian complained, looking at Zevran.

“No, but if you wish you can tell whoever that you did sleep with the famed Zevran Arainai.” The elf smirked. “My skills in bed are quite extraordinary after all. You couldn’t wait to brag about the encounter to anyone who’ll listen.”

Dorian sighed “Shame. You are a beautiful man. Feels like all the good ones are unattainable.”

“Why do you do it? This… fake seduction?” Cullen grumbled as he moved one of his knights. “She knows about them, don’t they?”

The elf shrugged. He seemed like he wanted to say something, but loud snoring from Oghren interrupted him. The dwarf had fallen asleep on the sacks, dead to the world.

"You need to come to terms with my inevitable victory. You'll feel much better." Dorian moved his rook.

"Really? Because I just won. And I feel fine." Cullen leaned back in his chair after moving his chess piece, smirking. His own queen had checkmated the king. Dorian seemed surprised for a moment before he shifted. "Don't get smug. There will be no living with you." Muttering, he stood up and stalked out. Hawke followed. “Better see to it that he doesn’t drink himself away. Ambassador will end up skinning him.” Smiling, Hawke closed the door quietly behind him.

“I should get back to my duties. Unless you’d care for a game?” He glanced at Zevran, wondering if the elf played.

“Set the board, Commander.” Zevran licked his lips slowly, somehow making it his words very suggestive. Shaking his head and smiling, Cullen readied the board.

“You play often?” He asked as Zevran moved to fill the seat Dorian had vacated.

“No, not often. But my Warden and I play from time to time.”

Cullen’s fingers twitched at the mention of Solona. He’d had particularly intense nightmares last night – and had spent all of the day today avoiding her. He hoped the rogue sitting in front of him didn’t notice the momentary lapse in his composure, but doubted it.

“I imagine she’d be a very good player.” He said carefully, focusing on the board. “Her strategies are breathtaking to say the least when it comes to warfare.”

Zevran nodded as he moved his pawn. “She excels at it. Took me a long while to become an opponent good enough for her.”

They played quietly for a while, each focusing on the board trying to figure out the play. Oghren’s constant snoring was the only sound in his office. Cullen had to admit – Zevran was much better than he expected. He really must have practiced hard with Solona.

“I wanted to speak to you again after she returned, but the timing never seemed right.” Zevran broke the silence after a while, his eyes never leaving the board. The man’s hand was softly stroking his daggers as usual.

“I understand you were busy. Warden General never seems to stay still even for a moment.” Cullen remembered the last time they sat and talked together. Right before Solona dropped out of the Fade Rift.

“I trust that you are doing better?” Cullen asked, knowing the answer.

“I am. She not being dead seems to have done wonders for my complexion.” He answered flippantly. Before, Cullen might have been angered by his light attitude. But now he knew it was just Zevran’s way of handling the intensity of his feelings – the man truly was glad. He could see the relief plain in his eyes.

“But I am curious, Commander. Your attitude seems to have changed drastically since she came back.” Zevran commented as he moved his rook. “You obviously still love her – may I ask why you haven’t said anything? You’re even sharing your office with her.”

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “It was not… I’m not… I didn’t offer her my office for romantic reasons, Zevran. She needed a space for her work, and considering how closely we work together, it made sense for her to use the same space as me.” His eyes never left the board.

“I don’t mean to steal her away, Zevran. Rest assured, I will keep my feelings to myself.”

“Is that because of me?” Zevran looked at him curiously. “Would you admit your feelings for her if the devilishly handsome elf wasn’t around to compete for her attention?”

Snorting at the man’s vanity – although Cullen couldn’t blame him, Zevran truly was very handsome by any standards – Cullen shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t. I cannot imagine Warden General reciprocating my feelings for her. I have no wish to make her feel uncomfortable while the entire issue is avoidable, especially while we are at war. And as I said, Warden General deserves better than a random Templar she rescued during the Blight.” The one that suffers nightmares and hallucinations, not to mention the lyrium addiction – Cullen added silently.

The elf didn’t respond, just playing the game quietly. It was a long while before he spoke again.

“Do you know how I met my Warden, Commander?”

Surprised at the sudden question, Cullen shook his head. “I heard some stories about an assassination? But no, I have not heard the details.”

Zevran chuckled as he captured Cullen’s bishop. “Well, Commander. Perhaps you will find my story amusing. Better than my foul-smelling friend’s snoring at any rate.” Cullen remembered the dwarf passed out in his office, and sighed. He’d almost forgotten about the man – almost.

“I was seeking death when I met my Warden.” Zevran leaned back into his chair, drawing the dagger out of the scabbard and spinning it. “What better ways to go then to throw myself against the member of legendary Warden Order? Crows accepted a contract from Loghain to assassinate the surviving Ferelden Grey Wardens from Ostagar, and that’s how I met my Warden.”

Cullen listened, fascinated. The pawn held in his hand was momentarily forgotten.

“The ambush was perfect. Of course, it was I who planned it.” Zevran bragged, before returning to the story. “A broken wagon and a mage disguised as a desperate refugee to lower their guards. Ten archers positioned above the ledges and two wire traps set to protect them. And of course, there was me.”

Zevran tossed the dagger, and plucked it deftly out of air mid-spin. “My Warden fell for it – she was rather innocent at the time. Sheltered Circle mage, she didn’t know any better. She rushed forward to help the ‘refugee’ with her wagons. Too helpful for her own sake.” He chuckled. “I sprang the trap, archers raining arrows down on them, and the ‘refugee’ tossed a fireball at her group. As I said, it was perfect.”

Zevran’s eyes took on a dreamy look as he recounted the events eleven years ago. “My Warden and her group didn’t have a scratch on them. She threw up a barrier the moment the first arrow was loosed. And then, it was a massacre. We were doomed from the start – no one stands a chance against my Warden. I was knocked out of the fight about midway through when her lightning bolt struck me.”

Cullen noticed that Zevran’s hand unconsciously rubbed at his shoulder, and wondered if that was where he was hit.

“She woke me up when everybody was dead. Said she had some questions for me to answer. I told her everything I knew of course – I wasn’t paid for my silence.” Zevran laughed quietly at himself “She asked if I was paid to talk her ears off instead.” The elf shook his head, and smiled. “Quite a blow – I was one of the best Crows. But there I was, lying in the dirt with a girl who’d been out of Circle less than half a year staring down at me. I wanted to kill her.”

Zevran said it so casually, that Cullen didn’t catch the meaning of the sentence until a beat later.

“I swore myself into her service right then and there. It didn’t mean anything.” Zevran shrugged. “I was an assassin. It wasn’t as if I placed any value in my words. But ah, the innocent Warden accepted it and took me along with her freak group. I survived the day – a chance to kill her would come along eventually.”

“Poison was the first thing I tried. Deathroot and blood lotus for the entire camp.” Zevran’s face hardened for a moment there, but Cullen had no idea why. “She figured it out quickly enough. ‘Accidentally’ set fire to the food, and dragged me off the camp. She trapped me with some sort of gravitational magic, and threatened to crush me to death if I ever tried to hurt another of her friends. Even scolded me for going after non-Wardens when it was only her and Alistair that the contract required me to kill.”

“I agreed to leave the others alone – she was right. I had no business with others. I wanted to kill _her_ , specifically. I flirted with her, tried to seduce her, but she laughed and took it in a stride. During the battles I watched for my chance to stab her in the back. At night I would sneak into her tent, only to find out she’s laid out wards for me.” Zevran’s tone made it clear that he was mocking himself.

“Why didn’t she just kill you?”

Zevran chuckled. “I wondered exactly the same thing. All she ever said about it was that she thought I needed time.” His face grew peaceful. “I suppose I did. She’s usually never wrong about people. Despite the numerous attempts I made on her life, she gave me gifts and attention same as all her friends. Solid bars of gold and silver, once she found out I liked the shiny metals. Once we killed a high dragon, and she took the leathers and had a pair of boots made for me. She remembered that I said I liked the smell of leathers in a passing conversation somehow. And a Dalish leather glove she found somewhere in a forest. Very similar to the Dalish gloves my mother left me when I was young. I’ve never been given gifts before, let alone receive something so thoughtful. Eventually, her kindness was enough to genuinely give up my loyalty to the Crows.”

Cullen finally remembered the pawn in his hand as Zevran finished his story. He gently placed it back on the board, giving the elf time to gather himself before speaking again.

“I thought myself incapable of love before I met her. Resigned myself to shallow encounters and few seductions for missions. My Warden saw me better than I did, and gave me everything I could ever want. I realized it when my former brother-in-arms came to bring me back to the Crows. After I killed him by my choice, I swore a new Oath for her, despite her protests. I searched for death in her. Instead, she gave me a life by her side.” Zevran’s eyes were steady as they met Cullen’s amber ones. “My Warden sees something in you as well, Commander. I suggest that you keep that in mind.”

With that, Zevran flipped his king over on the board, and stalked out of Cullen’s office, never making a whisper of noise.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Version. Here is the [link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4163601/chapters/27441195) for the remastered Second Chance for Him story.

Solona drained the mug she was holding, as templars and soldiers cheered loudly around her. She smashed the mug down, and called out. “Give me the best you got! I have one hell of a story ready for you lot tonight.”

As the Templars roared happily, Solona gently tugged at the Veil, testing. Her magic stubbornly remained out of reach – and she hated the feeling. Magic was as part of her as her limbs were. Without it, she felt incomplete, maybe even lifeless. Never helpless though, unlike most poor mages – her companions saw to that – but she despised the feeling anyway.

Hopefully she wouldn’t have to deal with it after tonight. If everything went according to her plan, Templars would accept her within the barracks with or without her magic. She spent many days preparing them for it.

As one templar placed something new in front of her – Mira, she thought – Solona raised the mug and drank deeply. Her head buzzed pleasantly as the vile thing sloshed down her throat and warmed her body. It felt hot in the cramped space with all the men and women rubbing against her, but she enjoyed spending her time with the soldiers. She coughed violently – and glared at the men surrounding her. “At least give me a warning when you decide to pour Maraas-Lok down my throat!” They laughed, clutching at their belly.

“So, right before I called the Landsmeet in Denerim I decided to go on a walk.” She launched straight into her prepared story. The room grew impressively silent as she talked. “I had been stuffed into Arl Eamon’s castle for days, cooped up and feeling frustrated. So I decided to escape, maybe look around the markets. There weren’t many people who would challenge me openly anyway. I thought, what could possibly go wrong?” She laughed heartily, and the Templars chuckled along.

“I wasn’t stupid enough to go alone – so I took Zevran with me. Alistair was being lectured at by Arl Eamon, and my friends were busy cleaning their weapons or something. So off he and I went, with Barkspawn tagging along too.” Solona paused to take another deep swig of the qunari liquor, using the moment to test her magic again. It was still too soon – she had to slow down the story.

“It was a fantastic day. Visited the market, got some dragon armor, couple new blades… sun shining brightly. Running off couple mercenaries harassing the… uh… workers at the Pearl. Zevran spending some time with the said workers… Nothing unusual.” Templars hung on to every word she uttered. Good.

“After I worked off the stress roaming about, we headed back to the marketplace through some alleyways. Then of course everything goes wrong.” She paused for a moment for dramatic effect, and lowered her voice slightly. “They were smart. They stayed downwind so that Barkspawn wouldn’t be able to sniff them out. And with so many rats scuttling about, we didn’t hear them either. One moment, everything was perfect. Then the next, a man clad fully in armor was standing in front of us, grinning. Men in armor don’t grin at me, not unless they’re trying to kill me.”

She tugged at the Veil once more, and to her relief she felt the slight response. She’d have her magic soon.

“He introduced himself – cheeky bastard – but he didn’t need to. Zevran already knew him from before. Another Crow, sent to finish the job Zevran had botched up. His old friend, Taliesen of Antivan Crow. He casually invited Zevran to come back to the Crows – make up a story, tell them whatever they needed to. Everything will go back to normal. Of course, I would have to die before that could happen. Zevran agreed. ‘That’s true. You’d need to be dead’ he said. Voice all flat and cold.” She shrugged, and drank more Maraas-Lok. She could practically hear the collective groan at her well-timed pause.

“I was a mage, but against two deadly Crows I didn’t know how much chance I had of escaping. Not to mention, Taliesen had brought near double the amount of Crows Zevran had the first time. Zevran stood there, looking at me, pondering, and then looking back at the Crow. Taliesen coaxed him, ‘come on! What’s even there to think about? One dead mage, and everything will be fine. The great Zevran, killing the infamous Warden’ and such. I already had my staff out, ready to attack. Barkspawn was about to pounce too. But Zevran kept his daggers sheathed, just chuckling quietly. He said, ‘well Tamerian, that’s one fine offer you’re giving me. I am no fool, old friend. You know me too well.’”

Her audience gasped, and at that moment Solona violently wrenched at the Veil, willing her magic to return. It did – it flooded her senses and she felt alive, powerful. It sang beautifully, winding around her and pulsing out, rolling thickly in the small barracks.

Templars responded instantly – they tensed as they felt her magic return. Most shrugged it off as quickly as they’d tensed, uncaring. Few – the group that Mettin led – kept their hands hovering on their pommels, ready to draw.

Putting down her mug and standing, Solona called out cheerfully. “Well, it seems we’ll have to continue this some other time.” She turned to leave, weaving her way slowly between the Templars.

“Warden General, what happened to Taliesen?” One man called out, hopeful. “Did Zevran take him up on his offer?”

She glanced back and grinned. “I can’t tell you that. It’d ruin the surprise!” She chuckled at the protest that rose from her audience. It echoed against the walls, growing louder.

“Warden General, please!” Solona smiled, as the Templars responded the way she wanted them to. They’d all seen Zevran shadowing her for days – she knew that had stoked their curiosity to a breaking point.

“Knight-Captain Barris is currently on duty, is he not? I’m afraid there isn’t much I can do.” She carefully kept her voice casual. She was so _close_ , if somebody would just…

“Why don’t you just stay anyway? You don’t need to keep your magic locked up just to talk to us here.” A loud voice rang out, shushing the grumbling audience. Solona’s eyes found one eager pair – Mira.

Maker bless her, it was exactly what was needed to be said. Solona smiled as the men surrounding her murmured general assent. “Ah, but I’m afraid my magic would be uncomfortable to some here. Isn’t that true, Ser Mettin?” All eyes whirled over to the Templars lurking about in the corner, their hands gripping their pommels. The man narrowed his eyes at being singled out.

“That’s not true! Your magic is not a cause for concern by any means. Please, we should have asked you to stop cutting off your magic much earlier.” Another Templar called out, and the murmuring voices grew louder.

“Of course it’s a concern! She’s a mage.” Mettin spat the last word out, but Solona kept her face impassive. Mettin strode over to where she was, his face flushed with anger. It was what she expected. What she hadn’t expected was the angry response Mettin’s words were met with.

“Shut up, Mettin! Your poisonous thinking is exactly what caused the rebellions in the first place. Let the First Warden be!”

“Just because she came and had a few drinks with us…” Mettin started, but he was cut off quickly.

“You have no business accusing the Hero of Ferelden of anything, bastard! She’s more trustworthy than you lot.” The few anti-mage templars visibly bristled at that, and Solona decided that it was time for her to intervene. She hadn’t planned on things getting this excited, and it was going to turn into a fight soon.

“Ser Mettin!” She raised her voice, finally stopping the arguments spiraling out of control all over the place. “You clearly do not trust me. And yet I’ve been perfectly capable of handling myself since I left the Circle eleven years ago. Why do you think I’d lose my control now?”

“All mages are dangerous. We must watch-“

“You’ve watched me yourself for days now.” Solona cut him off. “Do not spout chantry propaganda at me. Chantry was supposed to strengthen your faith, not turn you into mindless swords ready to strike at first sign of magic. What have you concluded for yourself, after spending time with me?”

Mettin faltered a little at that. “I… you’re a mage.”

She nodded, “Yes, and you’re a Templar. But those titles do not define who we are, Ser Mettin. Tell me, do you think yourself to be same as Ser Mira here? She is also a Templar.” Wordlessly, Mettin shook his head.

“Of course not. Each and every Templar is unique in their own way. How could you all not be? You’re all individual persons after all.” Solona shrugged her shoulders lightly. “The same rule applies to mages. I am my own person. You can see the stark difference between myself and say, lady Vivienne, can you not?” More nodding heads.

“So, what is the opinion you have formed of _me_? Not of the mage Amell, but of the Amell who went and drunk herself blind with few Inquisition soldiers.”

Mettin stayed silent for so long that Solona wondered if he wasn’t going to answer. Then, “you sure can drink.” He muttered, and Solona grinned. “And you can tell some damn good stories.”

Solona felt as if she could fly. Mettin was the most vocal anti-mage Templar present in Skyhold. If she won him over, the resentment toward the mages amongst former Templar ranks would fade out quickly.

“Would you like to hear some more tonight?” She raised her eyebrows at him, her implications clear. Other templars held their breath as Mettin considered her.

“Yeah.” He grumbled, finally letting go of his sword and sitting down heavily. “Yeah, I do. I want to know what the fuck that elf did.” There was a loud sigh as all the Templars expelled their breaths. Solona pinched herself discreetly, using the pain to fight the silly grin her face threatened to slide into.

“Very well.” Solona sat down right across from him, and smiled. “Bring some more ale here! I need to finish this story.”

* * *

Cullen sat staring at the flickering candle, ignoring the pile of reports he was supposed to work through. His head was throbbing so badly, he could barely see straight. Thankfully, his lyrium withdrawal symptoms usually avoided him when Solona was in his office. Cullen couldn’t even imagine having a break down with her nearby – it was entirely possible for him to attack her in his confused state. Demons whispered to him even as paralyzing pain seeped into his body.

Cullen had been procrastinating for nearly half a day – his illness had gradually worsened over the day, rendering him helpless. His men had attributed his foul mood to a certain Warden missing from his office today – and frankly Cullen didn’t know which was better. Was it better for his soldiers to think he was suffering from unrequited love, or for them to know their Commander was suffering from mind-wrecking, nightmarish hallucinations and possibly death-inducing pains? Either way, it was very unprofessional.

He glowered silently. He’d sworn he’d give better to the Inquisition than what he’d given to the Templar Order and the Chantry. Frankly, he was doing worse than ever. The blue lyrium in his drawer pulled at him, and Cullen picked up another report, trying to ignore the siren’s call. He could have given the damned thing away to one of his templar lieutenants. Or to Hawke, or even to Dorian. But no, he kept the blighted draught in his sodding desk.

His headache intensified, and he groaned. The tremors in his hands shook the report too much for him to read, and he dropped it, disgusted with himself. Cullen closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, willing the nausea away. It didn’t work.

It was going to be bad tonight. Sighing, Cullen braced himself for the onslaught of small daggers stabbing outward from his veins. He should have climbed the ladder up to his quarters earlier. Now, he was too weak to manage even that.

His door banged open, and Solona breezed in. Maker watch over him, she couldn’t be here! He was already searching for signs of horns on her head. To make the matters worse, he noticed that Zevran wasn’t with her, which meant he couldn’t count on the elf to protect her in case he attacked. Trying to shake his paranoia away, Cullen greeted her as cheerfully as he could.

“Warden General! I thought you had retired for the night.”

“Cullen! Up and about at his dreadful hour as usual I see! And it’s Solona. So-lo-naaaaaa.” She said in a sing-song voice. To his horror, he realized she was drunk. Maker, Solona was drunk in his office with nobody else around, while he was about to go into one of the worst lyrium withdrawal episodes.

“Tonight was a success!” Solona pulled out a glass out of nowhere. Where did she and Hawke keep them? They always pulled out alcohol out of nowhere. The brief distraction was a welcome one – but it did not last long. “I was in the Templar barracks tonight, with magic! And Ser sodding Mettin the stuck-up arse was finally comfortable enough to sit with me and have a drink. The man’s loosening up.”

That was a better distraction. He latched on, pouring all his concentration into making a conversation with her, ignoring the purplish skin his eyes insisted on seeing. It was _not_ real.“Ser Mettin? Truly? He was one of the Templars sharing Meredith’s views back in Kirkwall.”

“Yup.” Solona waved her hand, casting magic. Papers from her table floated over to her, and Cullen relaxed slightly – Solona’s magic was attuned to his body. While her magic was there, Cullen knew that Solona was real for certainty. The gentle waves lapping at his skin coaxed his tired muscles to calm down, and the horns he’d been imagining on her hairline receded.

“Took me five days! I mean, I knew it was going to take about a week but still. It put me behind my work. I’m going to have to work all night.” Solona whined, as she plucked one report out of the air. She kept the rest floating around her, and Cullen thanked the Maker for her tendencies to use magic like she was breathing – constantly casting without a thought, keeping her magic wrapped around her.

“You are intoxicated, First Warden Amell. Perhaps you should push it off till tomorrow?”

“No, I’m afraid this really does need to be done tonight. Why don’t you retire to your quarters? Cullen you look dreadful. And it’s Solona. So-lo-na…”

He knew he needed to get away from her right away… but if she stayed in his office all night, Solona would hear him screaming in his nightmares.

“As you said, burden of command. Just look at this pile over here.” He gestured towards his neglected reports, and Solona giggled. “Oh, that’s bad.  That’s really bad. I bet they breed like rabbits the moment you take your eyes off of them. I know my pile does for certain.”

She walked over to the sacks in the corner of his office, and plopped down. Much closer than she would be if she sat at the table. Her reports trailed behind her.

“Gene… Solona, you have a chair. It’s there with your desk.”

“I’m too drunk to use a chair. I won’t fall off and bruise my ass if I’m sitting on your sacks.” She waved her hand dismissively, and her magic gently whirled around his office. “I promise I won’t bother you, Cullen. But you really should get some sleep.”

He knew he should… but did he really want to risk letting Solona hear his tortured dreams?

Solona glanced up at him. “You’ll feel better when you sleep you know. We mortals need rest to continue on.”

His headache was somewhat lessening with her steady presence in the room. Her existence gave him something to focus on that wasn’t the blue relief beckoning in his drawer. She gave him the strength he needed to resist.

“Fine, I will soon. I just have few things to take care of first.”

“You know ‘few things’ will eventually keep you awake all night.” Solona gave another wave with her hand, and inkwell and pen floated towards her. Another sweep of magic in his office, another gentle wave lapping at him.

“You can’t send me to bed – you’re younger than me.” He scoffed, enjoying the brief relief from pain. It was easier to slip into familiar banter while she was casting.

“But you sent me to bed all the time! You carried me to my bed from the library every time I fell asleep. It’s high time I returned the favor.” Solona dipped the pen in her inkwell, and started writing. The thick vellum remained still in thin air, at a comfortable angle for her to write on.

“It’s really just couple of things.” Cullen knew he wasn’t strong enough to climb his ladder yet. “You knew it was me that carried you to bed in the Circle?”

Her pen made scratchy noise against the thick paper. “Of course I did. Thank you for that, by the way. You probably saved me from having a lot of neck pain from sleeping in a crappy library chair.”

He shrugged. “It was part of the job.”

Solona didn’t look up. “No it wasn’t.”

“Fine it wasn’t. It was my pleasure.” He sighed, exasperated.

“A pleasure, hmm?” She did look up this time, and winked. Her hand did not stop writing.

“If you’re trying to make me blush – it won’t work. I’m not that green Templar-Knight anymore.”

“Shame. It was adorable when you did blush – and ran away.”

“I did not run away!”

“You totally ran away. I just wanted to chat, but you ran.”

“I had duties to attend to elsewhere.”

“Your sole duty was to watch me. You ran away.”

“I didn’t.”

“Mmhmm. Okay.”

Maker, he was going to throttle her! Insufferable mage! She was the queen of insufferable mages he knew. The worst. He didn’t run away – he just… he had just needed to calm down for a moment. Away from her. She always managed to get him riled up easily back then. She still managed to rile him up now, a decade later. He sighed.

“Fine. Maybe I rushed away a little.”

“Just a little?”

“Just a little.” He replied firmly, willing the discussion to end. She snickered, but nodded.

Grumbling, he picked up a report he’d tossed earlier in disgust then noticed his hand was no longer trembling. When had that happened? With a start, he realized his headache was receding too.

Maybe it wasn’t that his withdrawal symptoms avoided Solona. Maybe, his obsession with Solona didn’t leave room for his symptoms to appear.

“What are you doing?” He asked her, trying to keep her talking. He wanted to know if he would be ok tonight – if he wouldn’t feel the tiny daggers shredding his body to pieces.

“Me? Warden stuff. Dreadful, depressing Warden stuff.” Ah, something she wouldn’t talk about then. He searched his brain for some other topic. It was easier – it no longer felt as if Anders’ kitten was running on it.

“Are you actually going to the Winter Palace with us?”

“Yes. I sent a request for an invite right after that war room meeting. I’m expecting a reply from Empress Celene any day now.”

“Josephine made it sound like that wasn’t possible.”

Solona looked up again, her eyes glinting mischievously. He loved how her face glowed with mirth.

“If it was anybody else, it wouldn’t have been. That’s all I’m going to say on that matter.”

“You’re not blackmailing anyone, are you?”

“No. I’m the Hero of Ferelden! I don’t need to stoop to blackmailing.” She looked a little annoyed.

“What are you going to wear? You said yourself at the meeting – you have nothing to wear. Please tell me you’re going to wear a ceremonial armor.”

“Why?” She looked at him suspiciously.

“Because Leliana and Josephine’s been going mad over the proper attire for the ball. They won’t let me wear my armor. It’s perfectly fine armor! If you wear your armor, I can wear my armor. They’ve been dragging me away from work for taking _measurements_.”

Her eyes swept up and down his body, and Cullen tried not to blush. He wasn’t a green recruit any longer, for Andraste’s sake.

“If Leliana’s involved, I can’t help you. You’re on your own. And no, I’m not wearing my armor. As you said, Leliana’s all over it. She’ll kill me if I even bring up the idea of wearing my armor.”

“We’re going to stop an assassination attempt. It’s perfectly reasonable to wear an armor.” He grumbled.

“Which is something I have already mentioned to my dear friend. Leliana just told me to practice my barrier spells if I was so worried.”

He chuckled at that. “She won’t be dissuaded?”

“Never in this lifetime.” Solona smiled back. Then went back to work.

“You don’t sound so drunk anymore.” He wondered out loud.

“No, I used my magic to heal myself a little. I need a clean head for what I’m doing right now. But you, ser, need to go to bed. And I’m only two years younger than you. I can send you to bed.”

“Still younger than me, means you can’t send me to bed.” He flexed his hands, testing. The pain was nearly gone. There was still dull ache nestled behind his eyes, but tonight he would be able to get some decent rest, instead of lying helpless in his bed as pain wrecked his body. And he was strong enough to actually climb his ladder.

“But, I concede your point. I do need to sleep. Good night, Solona.” He walked over to his ladder.

“Good night, Cullen.” She smiled as he climbed up to his room.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Version. Here is the [link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4163601/chapters/27441195) for the remastered Second Chance for Him story.

Cullen was walking back to his office after his midday meal, when a thundering cheer rose from the direction of the courtyard. Curious, he went back to the rotunda, and emerged through the huge front gates of the keep, and looked down the stairs to the training yard where nearly everyone in Skyhold was gathered.

An unexpected burst of Solona’s magic made him stagger a little, before he took in the scene visible below. She was in the training ring with Dorian, clad only in a very thin cotton undershirt and a pair of brown trousers tucked into soft leather boots. Sweat from her exertions made the clothes cling to her form tightly, clearly exposing her feminine curves that were usually only hinted at through her armor. She was only sixteen when she’d left the Circle – she’s obviously matured since then. And from what he could see, Solona’s breasts and hips had filled out since the Circle, and Cullen feared he was drooling at the sight.

Cullen strode down and wrestled his way towards the front of the crowd. His men parted way for him easily once they realized who he was – and he managed to find a place next to Zevran and Leliana just as Solona’s gravitational spell crushed Dorian flat to the ground. The Tevinter cried out “Yield!” and people cheered, money quickly changing hands.

“What’s she doing?” He shouted over the loud roar at Zevran. “My Warden said she felt herself slipping and needed a bit of training.” Zevran shouted back. “Dorian saw her practicing magic and challenged her to a duel.”

Said mage was now being helped up by Solona. Cullen watched as she grasped the mage’s hand tightly, exchanged a few quick words, and laughed loudly. Dorian didn’t look bothered – he just laughed along with her. As he got out of the training ring, Solona called out.

“Lady Vivienne, would you like to spar as well? I hear you are a knight-enchanter. Shall we test our spirit blades?” Her friendly smile was warm, inviting.

Vivienne, who was standing next to the Inquisitor and Josephine close by scoffed loudly enough to be heard over the crowd.

“You, a knight-enchanter? Don’t be silly, my dear. Your efforts at jests are amusing, but our school of magic is not something to be made light of.”

Josephine’s face went pale at the blatant insult, and the crowd grew quiet. Trevelyan was smiling happily next to the tall mage, looking smug. Once again, Cullen wondered just what those two hoped to achieve by belittling Solona, rubbing at his temple as the headache grew. He glanced at Zevran and Leliana, but to his surprise they only looked amused.

“Ah, yes. I believe I heard something about the Chantry allowing only the most talented and trustworthy mages to practice the art of knight-enchanter.” Solona’s voice was light, but was clearly heard by everyone in the courtyard in the choking silence. Cullen saw her eyes harden, her face turning cold. She had pulled on her Hero mask, burying the kind playful Solona somewhere deep. In her place remained a ruthless leader.

“You’ve heard?” Trevelyan’s haughty voice rang out. “Then you should have known not to joke about it.”

Solona idly rubbed her staff. “It’s not a very old school of magic though, from what I’ve heard. Is it true?”

Vivienne nodded, looking proud. “The magic was discovered scant ten years ago. There are very few who practices this magic, and even fewer who does so competently. Perhaps you should try to pay more attention to the Circle’s events, my dear?”

“I see.” Solona’s face remained politely curious, despite her steely gaze. “And how was this magic discovered, lady Vivienne?”

For the first time since the mage joined them, Cullen saw Vivienne hesitate. The question obviously was an unexpected one. One Vivienne had never thought to ask herself. No one dared to breathe as the exchange between the two powerful mages went on.

“Was it found by a mage in a Circle, researching combat magic?” Solona asked again as silence started to stretch out. “Or was it one of the old schools of magic Chantry had forbidden earlier, only to make it available to select Circle mages for some reason?”

“The origin of the magic is hardly an important component of one’s mastery of it, Warden.” Trevelyan artfully avoided answering.

“No, of course not. But knowing the origin of the magic you practice _can_ be helpful in certain situations.” Solona smiled sweetly, flashing her white teeth. She was slowly spinning her staff in her hand.

“For example, if you had asked this question when you first started training, you might have found out that the knight-enchanters were once known as arcane warriors, who were ancient elven warriors of the time before the rule of Tevinter.” Her casual teasing tone somehow added to the shock barreling through the audience. Vivienne looked as if she had been slapped.

“Oh yes, stunning isn’t it? This form of magic was lost for over thousand of years. And somehow, the Chantry got their hands on this ancient secret ten years ago. Now, who could have possibly found out about this lost magic?”

Solona’s question was met with dead silence.

“Maybe an elven mage studying relentlessly in the Circle? Or a mage assigned to a Templar squad?” Solona idly counted with her fingers. “Seems quite far-fetched, doesn’t it? The Chantry kept mages under strict supervision after all, and this magic was something nobody even knew existed.”

Cullen felt Zevran snicker next to him. _Maker, was it possible…?_

“Perhaps your studies at the Circle let up enough time for some world events, lady Vivienne? Did you know that during one of my travels I explored an ancient elven ruin, lost for thousands of years previously in the Brecilian Forest?” Solona was starting to lose her teasing tone a little.

“I found a spirit of the arcane warrior who was trapped inside a gem, lady Vivienne. It offered me the knowledge of the path of arcane warriors in exchange for giving it the release it yearned for.” Ugly blotches of red appeared on Trevelyan’s and Vivienne’s face, as mixture of embarrassment and anger rushed through them. Most of the Wardens were snickering loud enough to be heard.

“I could have kept the magic all to myself, of course – give myself an edge in battle. But I thought that the Circle mages deserved a chance to learn something new. I offered to share my knowledge with the Chantry, and they taught it to select few they felt they could test out the magic on.”

Zevran chuckled loudly, echoed by many servants and soldiers. Cullen couldn’t help but smile too, as Sera’s voice cut in loudly. “So wut? If not for the Warden’s charity, the bitch wouldn’t have the special magic to hoist her tits up about? Well that’s just perfect, inn’t?” She cackled, rolling around on the ground. “And Vivienne just tried to tell her off? Warden sure showed her wut’s wut!”

Loud laughter rumbled through the audience, as Sera’s words cracked the dam. But Solona wasn’t done yet.

“Lady Vivienne, you are a loyalist mage, correct? I assume you follow the Circle rules?” Without giving her a chance to reply, Solona barged on. She smashed her staff into the ground, and her voice turned icy, cracking sharply like a whip.

“I may be young, but I hold far more experience than you could ever hope to gain in your lifetime, lady Vivienne. Even ignoring all the fancy titles related to the Blight I hold, I am your superior as an Arlessa, and an equal as the First Enchanter of Ferelden Circle. You will address me respectfully, and you will treat me with a behavior befitting my rank. I will not tolerate another such blatant insult against myself. _Do you understand me, mage?_ ” Solona’s blast of magic of pure power punctuated her last words, staggering everyone in the courtyard as she stressed her point.

“Yes, Warden General.” Vivienne sounded strangled.

“Good. You are dismissed.” Solona sounded disinterested, waving her off. Vivienne stood frozen for a moment, her face twisted in indignant shock at such a causal dismissal, but then stalked away stiffly. Crowd erupted with loud cheers – Vivienne’s unbearable noble attitude made her largely unpopular among the people of Skyhold. Cullen couldn’t help but laugh as well, relieved that someone _finally_ thought to put the haughty mage in her place.

“Now, who is willing to challenge me?” Solona shouted, her voice riling the crowd up even more. “I can beat any of you unruly lot! Is there someone brave enough to face me?” And just like that, Solona’s stony mask dropped.

To Cullen’s horror, The Iron _sodding_ Bull stepped up hoisting his giant two-handed sword. Oghren was whooping loudly with the Wardens on the opposite side of the ring, and Cullen wondered just how daft that dwarf could be. Solona was about to get pounded into dirt.

“Think you can beat _me_?” Iron Bull goaded her, sweeping his huge sword in a powerful blow causing dust to stir up from the ground. Solona grinned fiercely. “Oh, yes I can. I’ll beat you – using only my spirit blade.”

The crowd exploded at that, and Hawke whistled loudly as Varric hurried to collect the bets. Cullen wanted to grab her and shake her. What was she _thinking?_ Did she have a death wish?

Screaming his battle cry, Bull brought his sword down in a large arching downward cut towards her head. Cullen’s gut twisted with worry, and he was about to step up to stop the sparring before it really began, when a sudden yellow-golden glow sizzled into life. Brightly shining greatsword was held between her two hands, angled above her head to block the blow. She had the pommel high up, and blade pointed downward, allowing her to avoid having to face the full weight of the giant man’s force. Bull grunted at the unexpected impact – the qunari had obviously expected the tiny mage to dodge the blow. Solona flashed her teeth at Bull.

“Bull, I’m disappointed. I’ve expected a heavier blow. Is all that muscle just for show?” She taunted, and Bull growled. He quickly lifted his sword again, and swung it hard and fast, aiming for her midsection.

Solona stepped _towards_ the mountain of muscles, again surprising everyone – maybe except her old companions? – and Bull had to pull the blow. She was too close for him to hit her properly with such a huge swing, standing barely a hand’s breadth away from him.

Solona didn’t waste a moment as Bull struggled to switch the angle of his powerful swing. She twisted where she stood, bringing the pommel up, and jabbed Bull quickly in the stomach and the wrist. Bull grunted in pain, but his fingers remained locked around his sword. He pointed the sword back towards Solona for a quick stab, but by then she had already danced out of his reach.

Roaring in frustration, Bull charged at her but Solona easily avoided the wild swings and laughed happily. “Bull, charging at me is one thing you shouldn’t do. Trust me.” She called, her glowing greatsword making a quick slash against the qunari as he passed. She didn’t cut him, but a yellow line remained on Bull’s thigh, marking his imaginary wound. Bull whirled around, and charged at her yet again.

Solona stood rock still – meeting the Bull’s reckless rush head on. There was a collective gasp as Bull barreled her down – but she was gone.

Cullen’s eyes found her quickly, and his jaw dropped. Maker’s breath, she was hanging on the Bull’s horn. Zevran chortled loudly and Leliana hooted as she swung around the horn, using Bull’s own momentum. Oghren was screaming his own battle cries, his voice mingling with Barkspawn’s excited howls.

She spun at a dizzying speed, and kicked out at Bull’s head from the back. With the combined force of her weight and his own momentum, Bull dropped heavily onto the ground landing face first. Solona crouched on Bull’s shoulder, her greatsword shimmering at Bull’s exposed throat.

“I yield” Bull coughed into the dirt, and Solona lightly sprang off, crying out in victory. Cullen let out a sigh of relief, releasing the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Solona helped Bull get back onto his feet, and raised her sword high above her head. “Anyone else?” she cried.

Bull was climbing out of the ring carefully, looking sore. “Damn.” He shook his massive head and grinned. “I think I’m in love. Where did she learn to fight like _that?_ ” Zevran chuckled.

“She used to go at it with your current Arishock, Bull.” Qunari’s eyes widened. “No shit? Damn.”

Solona casually picked up her staff again. “If there is no one left…”

“You won’t beat me.” Cullen called out, startling the men surrounding him. Zevran and Leliana shot him an incredulous look, and he wondered what had gotten into him as well.

“An ex-templar sitting behind a desk all day? Barely a challenge!” Solona goaded him, her dark brown eyes sparkling. Her lips were twitching into a smile, and Cullen felt his blood starting to pump.

“Scared to face a Templar, First Warden? Or are you just worried about embarrassing yourself in front of your Wardens?” He shot back, enjoying the battle talk. It was something Cullen was familiar with, although he’d never even dreamed of fighting Solona before.

“Hardly. I’d be more concerned about dumping you on your ass in front of the Inquisition!” Solona spun her staff expertly, before stabbing it into the ground once more. “Growing fat and soft doing all that paperwork. My, are you sure you want to risk this, Commander?”

Cullen started to unbuckle his armor. He wasn’t about to fight Solona clad only in her underclothes while he was wearing his full heavy armor. “Enjoy your dignity while it lasts, General.” He taunted.

Solona walked to the edge of the training ring, and dumped a bucket of water over herself as he undressed himself. His eyes followed the water cascading down her bound hair, along her exposed neck, drenching her cloth, making the white cotton cling to her breasts sensuously. Solona shook her head hard, splattering the water droplets dripping down her wet hair. The crowd was going wild, sovereigns exchanging hands rapidly.

“I’ll beat you without magic too!” Solona called out as Cullen removed his armor pieces one by one, setting them next to Zevran. He snorted.

“Curly, what do you think you are doing?” Hawke appeared next to him, his eyes glinting with excitement. “Are you really going to fight my cousin in front of everyone in Skyhold?”

Cullen shook his head. “I must be going mad.” Which was entirely possible – it was one of the known side effects of lyrium withdrawals after all. He tugged off his metal bracers, then jumped over the fence easily. He shook his body out, willing it to warm up as Solona prowled slowly, water dripping as she cooled herself from the friendly match with Bull.

After swinging his sword a few times experimentally, Cullen lifted the shield Cassandra lent him and took the battle stance. “You ready to eat dirt, General?” He called out cheerfully.

“I’ll feed you your own words, Commander.” She replied sweetly, and took her stance as well, her hand holding the pommel of her spirit blade. This time, Solona had summoned a longsword, matching his preferred choice of weapon.

The crowd whooped and cheered them on, but Cullen’s focus sharpened into a point, latching onto the woman standing in front of him. Impulsively, Cullen reached for the lyrium in his blood, and using the power surging through his veins, Smited her.

Every templar and mage gathered at the scene gasped in shock, and Cullen realized just what he’d done. Solona stumbled, then swayed heavily as the magic was wrenched away from her. She dropped the pommel as she buried her face in her hands and groaned, and Cullen instantly regretted his instinctive act. He took a step forward, apology hanging on his lips, when she suddenly lifted her face.

He flinched at the anger burning in her brown-black eyes. “How _dare_ you Smite me!” She shouted, and Cullen felt a blade twisting in his guts, guilt washing over him. What in the Void had caused him to make such a stupid mistake?

“General, I…”

“Commander.” She spat, crouching low. “Oh, you will regret this.” Her hands were held low by her sides, each holding a curving dagger pointing outward. He hadn’t seen her draw her weapons. They must have been hidden, strapped to her legs. But then she sprang forward, and he barely had time to lower his shield to block her strike, let alone brood on his mistake.

Solona was mad – no, enraged. She burned with passion as she danced about him, slicing and stabbing in her deadly graceful way. She moved with near impossible speed, making him scramble to block or parry her dizzyingly numerous blows. She kept her body low, using her crouched legs to propel her body. She moved fluidly, but Cullen recognized a few moves she used – a few Templar moves mixed in with roguish maneuvers that Isabella used during fights. But she was even faster than the pirate was.

But he was no stranger to battles either. After he finally adjusted to her dazzling speed, Cullen started to push back, his longsword no longer parrying but landing blows against her darting figure. His borrowed shield kept his left side protected, while his sword kept his right side from being sliced to ribbons. The crowd rolled and flowed, each shouting out some sort of encouragement. He heard the Wardens calling out for their General, while the Inquisition soldiers cheered him on.

Solona sprang up suddenly, moving out of her low crouch with such force that she vaulted into air. She hurtled straight towards him, and unable to avoid her charge, Cullen brought his shield up to block her, hoping she would veer off course. She didn’t.

Cullen braced for impact as Solona barreled straight to him, but it didn’t come. Instead, she somehow stepped around him, spinning around, and jumped straight up into the air. He had a split second to see her two daggers poised to strike him down as she dropped back onto earth, pulled by gravity, lending force to her blow.

He dropped and rolled, desperate to avoid her daggers arching towards him. He felt the edges of her blades whistling past his arm as he straightened back up a few paces away. He panted, hot breath puffing out of him as Solona straightened back up. She was panting too.

“Well, Commander. Perhaps you are more than just fancy talk.” She cocked her head to one side, her chest heaving, curving daggers held outward. She was still furious – he could see the anger simmering in her eyes. But Solona seemed rather happy despite that. He felt exhilarated, adrenaline pumping through him from facing such a deadly opponent. He didn’t feel the aching need for his blue relief that constantly lurked about in the edges of his conscience. He didn’t feel the pain wrecking his body, shaking his hands. No worries, no pain, no yearning. He laughed loudly, enjoying the pure ecstasy brought on by the breathtaking fight. They were magnificent together, their blades ringing against each other.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Warden General.” He called out, letting his laugh trickle away into low chuckle. Then he bashed his sword into his shield, making them ring loudly. “But it won’t be enough against me, I’m afraid.” The Inquisition roared around him, backing his words.

“Brave words, Commander.” She spun the dagger around her fingers expertly, and tossed one up into the air before plucking it out mid-spin. Cullen briefly saw a layer of Zevran over her, moving exactly the same way. Well, now he knew who trained her. His eyes briefly flitted over to the assassin standing by the fence, and noticed him looking proudly at her. He could only imagine the bursting pride the handsome elf must feel. He’d truly trained her well.

“Let’s see if you still feel so cheeky when I dump your ass on the ground.” She twirled her daggers once more, and Wardens erupted around the ring, drowning out the booing Inquisition soldiers. He smirked, smiling crookedly as Solona goaded him. Cullen and Solona both took their stance again, eyes alert for lightest twitches. To his relief, he felt Solona’s magic returning to her. Her face slightly softened as her magic gently wrapped around her, and Cullen waited a moment for her to get adjusted though he doubted she needed the time.

“Don’t Smite me again, Commander. You’ll need every ounce of energy you have against me – though it won’t help.” She stepped around carefully, as she goaded him. He snorted, stepping the other way, carefully feeling out the ground with his foot.

She sprang forward again just as he took another step, catching him by surprise. There was no tensing of muscles, no slight switch in her stance to warn him of her sudden charge. Cursing, he twisted out of the way of her blade, pommel of his sword aimed for her shoulder. Her other arm snaked up with blinding speed, aimed for his sword arm, and he had to let up his jab lest he impaled his hand on her dagger.

They sprang back again, circling each other slowly. She prowled like a great panther, her muscles flexing smoothly under her flawless skin. She was a predator in all her glory, every inch of her body honed for efficient killing. But Cullen was no easy prey either. No, he matched her predatory gait, challenging her as equal in combat skill. His heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline pouring out into every limb, warming him.

He struck first this time, his longsword swinging down in an arching blow aimed at her waist. She spun around him, just barely out of his reach, then stepped up too close. As he overextended himself, she exploited the crack in his guard, placing herself right in front of him. She stood so close that he could feel her chest brushing against his own as they breathed.

She kicked out as his muscles flexed to stop the swing of his sword, trying to bring it back for a quick pommel strike. Her foot connected solidly with his shield arm, spinning the borrowed shield out of his numb grasp. His pommel struck her left shoulder, and she dropped her dagger.

They split up again, back to circling each other. The crowd had quieted down, mesmerized with their commanders’ sparring.

“Taking one blade won’t do much for you, Commander.” She twirled her remaining dagger once more, while her other arm was carefully positioned out of the way. He didn’t damage it too hard – he knew she would just be feeling numb for a while.

“Taking my shield was impressive, but it won’t help you either.” Cullen shot back, flexing his shoulder. They were both tiring very quickly now. She’s already sparred twice, and wasn’t fully healed. He’s barely slept for… forever, fighting the lyrium in his veins. And this sparring session was taking much longer than normal fights.

This time, they rushed each other at the same time. His longsword met her shorter dagger, clanging loudly. Every living soul held their breath as they clashed again and again. They both knew this would be their last burst of swordplay. His longsword gave him much longer reach, and he had power on his side, but she still had her lightning speed and a decade’s worth of constant fighting experience. Their weapons flurried between them, eyes locked on each other as they struck, parried, and stabbed.

They were panting heavily, both flushed from their exertions. Her face held a pinkish glow underneath her skin, and Cullen was more worked up then he had been for months. He wanted that moment to last forever, as they breathed together, moving together in perfect harmony as her magic and his lyrium entangled.

Of course, that moment shattered soon enough when Solona’s ankle twisted as she stepped on a treacherous pebble stuck on the ground. It broke her concentration only for a split second, her foot scrabbling for purchase, but it was all he needed. He tackled her, both landing heavily with a grunt. Their weapons clattered away as Solona tried to break their fall, and Cullen tried to keep her head from banging against the ground with his hand.

She looked up at him, and grinned. She didn’t say ‘yield’ like Cullen expected her to though. Instead, she opened her mouth and laughed. “Commander, if you think you’ve won you’re sorely mistaken.”

“Maker’s breath, General. You’re just drawing out the inevitable.” His body pressed heavily into hers, keeping her trapped. What more could she do?

Her quick jab at his face with her fist made him jerk away sharply. Using his surprise to her advantage, she twisted underneath him violently, pushing him away from her. He grunted as he was thrown off of her, and then somehow she was on top of him. She straddled him as he lay panting on the ground, her hand once again holding the dagger she’d dropped earlier.

“Never underestimate me, Commander.” She cried out happily, sitting atop of him. “Same to you, General.” He laughed. Even as she threw him, his hand had managed to find her other dagger, holding it at an angle at her stomach. He heard the collective groans as bets were settled in an unexpected draw. But his mind didn’t register any of that.

Solona’s body burned against his, adrenaline still pulsing through both of them. She was elated, laughing happily as the audience chanted her name. Cullen’s blood sang, urging him on. The lyrium in his blood was throbbing, rushing through him as Solona’s magic tumbled around them, responding to her excitement. They wound together, merging into one powerful force. Her sweet scent enveloped him completely, thoroughly intoxicating his mind as he inhaled her - somehow flowery and citric at the same time. It was mixed with the smell of sweat, but there was no smell of rotting oranges. Her thick silky hair was curling around in a messy bunch around her shoulders, having escaped her tight bun sometime during their fight.

His mind filled with her, only her. The blood boiled in his veins and he inhaled, taking her scent deep into himself. His ears heard nothing but the song her magic sang. He surged up, his arms wrapping around her tightly. She gasped in surprise as he sat up while she was still straddling him.

His mouth crushed onto hers, his tongue delving into her mouth open in shock, claiming their first kiss. The heat building inside him was scorching, burning all thoughts away from his mind. His arm around her waist kept her locked in place, holding her flush against him as he kissed her hard and deep, moaning at her honey-sweet mouth. His teeth nipped her lips lightly, as he’d wanted to do so for the past decade. His other hand snaked up to the sensuous curve of her neck, stroking and rubbing, then tilting her head backward so he could kiss her even hotter, even deeper. Somewhere far away, his ears heard a clatter as her dagger slipped from her fingers.

Every cell in his body screamed at the pleasure rushing through his body. At this moment, somebody could have poured lyrium down his throat and Cullen wouldn’t have any trouble spitting it back out, resisting its lure. Lyrium’s song was nothing compared to her magic’s song. His yearning for lyrium seemed petty compared to his yearning for Solona.

He only broke the kiss when his lungs begged for a breath of air. Gasping desperately, Cullen gulped down the air saturated with her sweet scent and magic. His eyes opened and found her brown eyes staring into his amber ones. They were impossibly wide, and the only expression he could read on her face was a mind-shattering shock. That wrenched him painfully back into reality.

He held her in his vicelike grasp, crushing her against himself with all his strength. Cullen wasn’t sure if his ears were working properly – Skyhold courtyard was perfectly silent. Every emotion between incomprehension to slack-jawed shock was reflected on the crowd. His searching eyes met Zevran’s and his heart stuttered. The handsome elf’s stony face unreadable. Then Solona’s gasp for air dragged his attention back to the woman sitting over his groin.

He forced his arms to release her, and she scrambled backwards hastily. Her face was crimson, blushing so furiously that he thought she might pass out. Maker, what the _fuck_ have I done?

“Warden General…” He started, and winced at how husky his voice was, his desire coiled around his words so clearly. Solona bolted upright at his voice, avoiding his eyes. Without a word, she vaulted over the fence in one smooth jump and sprinted away, weaving through the gathered audience like a cat.

Cullen watched helplessly as Zevran threw him a glance and moved to follow her, also disappearing in an instant. He was still sitting, panting in the training yard as hundreds of eyes focused on to him.

_Maker’s breath, he was in trouble._


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original Version. Here is the [link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4163601/chapters/27441195) for the remastered Second Chance for Him story.

“What were you thinking, Commander?” Josephine angrily gestured at him, and Cullen could only shrug apologetically. His ears rang from her raised voice bouncing off the War Room’s walls. “You’ve just jeopardized our alliance with lady Amell! She could withdraw her support for us. We’d lose the Wardens, the gold, the lyrium supply, most of the support from Ferelden nobles…” Josephine rambled on, and Cullen groaned inwardly, kicking himself for risking so much. If Solona indeed decided to retract her support, it’d hurt the Inquisition terribly… and he was undoubtedly at fault.

“Josie, I think he understands.” Leliana gently stopped the glowering ambassador. Cullen sent her a silent thanks – his mind was confused enough without the added stress.

“I do not think First Warden Amell will withdraw her support for Inquisition.” Cassandra shrugged next to him. Surprisingly, it was the Seeker and the Spymaster who seemed less disturbed by his inexcusable actions. Ambassador was furious with him, as he expected and Trevelyan… well, she was an entirely different matter. He was just glad she seemed too angry to talk at the moment. Cullen just could not deal with the Inquisitor’s accusatory words against Solona at the moment.

“I’ll apologize to her.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know if that’ll be enough, but I’ll try to set this right.”

“If you could have kept yourself in your pants, Commander, we could have avoided this whole nasty situation.” Apparently, Trevelyan wasn’t too angry to talk. He just shook his head. “I apologize for my actions, Inquisitor.”

“What were the chances of Warden Amell using blood magic to control the Commander, to give herself negotiating grounds?” Trevelyan snapped, ignoring his words. Cassandra answered her quickly.

“Absolutely none. The number of mages and templars there, and myself would have noticed if she did. Also, no blood was shed at the training grounds. She cast no spells today, other than the spirit blade.” Trevelyan didn’t look happy with the answer.

“My actions were my own doings, Inquisitor. I may not be proud of it, but I will not shy from the responsibility of it.” Cullen said tiredly. Trevelyan seemed to accuse Solona of blood magic for every possible mishaps nowadays. He looked at Leliana.

“Where is the Warden General? I wish to see her immediately.” Leliana opened her mouth to answer, when the bells tolled loudly throughout the keep. The sudden noise had them all confused for a moment, until a messenger ran into the War Room.

“Inquisitor! Forces approaching flying the Grey Warden banners. About three hundred of them, ser!”

Grey Wardens? Cullen wrecked his brain for the schedules he’s discussed with Solona. Maker, Ferelden Wardens were supposed to arrive after the Winter Palace ball! They were nearly a week early. He groaned out loud, pinching the bridge of his nose as frustrations once again set his headache pounding in his brain.

“I need to attend to this.” He growled out, and the others nodded. His apology to Solona would have to wait. Cullen turned and marched off to the gate of Skyhold, dread sitting heavily in his guts as Rylen and Barris ran up to him. “Ser, the Orlesian Grey Wardens are forming up by the courtyard.” Cullen nodded as Barris reported.

“And where is the First Warden?” He gritted his teeth.

“She… she’s already at the gate, Commander.” Rylen informed him carefully, and Cullen ignored the worried tone in his captain’s voice as they neared the gate.

Five hundred Wardens were standing at attention by the gate, standing tall and proud. Warden Stroud and Warden Oghren stood by the First Warden clad in her full armor. Zevran was standing by her side as well, petting Barkspawn. Solona was wearing her First Warden mask – looking stern and imposing, commanding absolute loyalty from the men around her. Cullen clenched his fists, and walked right up to her.

She looked up to see him approaching, and merely nodded. “Commander.”

“First Warden.” He greeted her. They stood together, as her Wardens rode in through the Skyhold’s gates and poured out into the courtyard. The men dismounted then saluted smartly, bowing their heads to Solona.

“First Warden Amell! Warden Commander Nathaniel Howe reporting for duty. I bring three hundred Ferelden Wardens as ordered.” The man leading the small army spoke, still looking down at the ground.

“Commander Nathaniel. Good work.” She spoke clearly, then raised her voice. “At ease, men! You’ve had hard travel arriving at Skyhold in such a short time. I release you all from duty for the next two days. Get some rest, then get to know the Orlesian Wardens, the surrounding area, and the Inquisition forces. You will be working very closely with them all. On the third day, report at dawn for new training roster.” She turned towards Cullen halfway.

“This is Commander Cullen Stanton Rutherford of Inquisition forces. Obey him. Details regarding your new duties will be handed out on the third morning, at the training field. Officers are to report to me in three hours’ time. Dismissed!”

At her dismissal, the Wardens started to mill about the area, Fereldens trying to get their horses cleaned and settled as Orlesians mingled about, helping their fellow brothers and sisters.

“See to it that they’re all given appropriate quarters.” Cullen ordered, and Barris and Rylen nodded.

Cullen’s eyes followed Solona closely as she leaned in, grasping the Warden Commander’s arm and embraced warmly. She smiled gently as she spoke, and laughed loudly at something Nathaniel said. Motioning for him to follow, she turned back to him.

“Commander, this is Ferelden Warden Commander Nathaniel Howe. Nathaniel, Commander Cullen of the Inquisition Forces.” They nodded at each other, eyes sweeping up and down as they inspected the other man. Cullen had heard that Nathaniel was a son of a noble Solona executed. Looking at the man now, he could clearly see the respect the man held for Solona, and he wondered exactly what their story was.

“Commander, will you join us? It won’t take long.” She asked, her professional mask never slipping. “Of course, First Warden.”

“Thank you.” With that, she led the man away to the battlements, flanked by Zevran and Barkspawn. “Oghren, make sure they all behave! Don’t rile them up, and don’t get them drunk until sunset!” She called back loudly, and Cullen heard a disappointed grunt from the dwarf. Sighing, Cullen followed. He won’t be able to find time to talk to her privately anytime soon.

* * *

“I can’t believe you got here so quickly! It’s been only a week since I sent word!” His Warden exclaimed as soon as Commander’s door closed behind them in the office. “I knew I said as soon as possible, but I honestly didn’t expect you until after the Winter Palace Ball.”

“We nearly whipped half our horses to death, but I believe it was worth it.” Nathaniel smiled as Cullen shook his head. “It’s a ride week and a half long! You must have pushed your men to their very limits.”

“As I said, we nearly lost our horses. But everyone was eager to see our General with their own eyes.” Nathaniel shrugged, and looked to him. “Zevran, still hanging about I see.”

“Nathaniel. Still alive, hmm?” Zevran smirked. He had met the man when his Warden was first assigned as the Warden Commander in Ferelden. He’d watched the man very closely for weeks… months, wondering if the man would attempt to kill Solona. He was a Howe after all. But eventually the man proved himself loyal to her.

“I know I stopped by earlier in Amaranthine, but give me an update.” Solona pushed the tired man down onto her chair, ignoring his protests. “You’re exhausted, Nathaniel, so sit and talk. Don’t worry about formalities. Not that you ever worried about it, when it comes to me. I’ll let you go rest soon enough.”

The man gave up quickly, knowing Solona won’t budge. Leaning back, he started his report. “Well, as you saw at the Vigil’s Keep, I’ve kept up your training plans. Everyone I brought here is a senior warden, meets your standards. Fifty mages. Velanna and Sigrun are running things back at the Keep with Varel while I’m here.” His Warden nodded, tapping her finger against the desk.

“Perfect. Thank you, Nathaniel. Nothing big happened while I was away, right?”

The man snorted. “Nothing big? You went ahead and died on us! Do you know what it was like when the news reached the Keep that you stayed behind in the Fade to stop a Nightmare demon?”

Zevran flinched at the reminder of his failure. His hand reflexively moved up to his ear where an earring was hanging, the one matching his Warden’s earring. His eyes flicked over to Cullen, to see him grimace as well.

“I didn’t _die_. I killed that Nightmare demon. Someone had to do it.” She huffed, but looked guilty all the same.

“It was a fucking disaster. Wardens were crying, grieving everywhere. Nobody would attend to their duty, too busy drinking in misery. Dworkin nearly blew up a part of the Keep with his bombs. Guards and villagers fared no better. It was a month of tears and no work done until Sister Nightingale’s words reached us. If darkspawn had attacked us…” Nathaniel shuddered. “Just don’t do that again. It was hard enough when you went away searching for the…”

Nathaniel abruptly closed his mouth, his eyes flashing over to the Inquisition Commander standing nearby. “The thing.”

Zevran watched as his Warden’s eyes also darted to Cullen, and wondered if the man was offended by being left out. Cullen’s eyes were hard, his mouth set in a tight line. But then again, Cullen had looked like that since the sparring session earlier today. Zevran tried to suppress the chuckle rising from his chest.

“Anyway, no, there wasn’t anything big you need to concern yourself with.” Nathaniel finished, looking apologetically at Solona for the slip of his tongue. She nodded almost imperceptibly, accepting his silent apology. “But there _is_ a Warden matter that does require your attention… May I see you privately later tonight?”

“Of course. You know I keep an open door policy. I will take command of the force you brought here today. You will return to Vigil’s Keep after the meeting I called is over. Once you return, recruit another hundred fifty men for the Wardens to replace the three hundred I have with me. If there is need for more, let me know.”

“Understood, General.” Nathaniel saluted.

“Wait, a meeting?” Cullen cut in, finally speaking. “Meeting with whom, exactly?”

“Ah, Commander. I have called a meeting with all the Warden Commanders of Thedas. They are en route to Skyhold at the moment. Please don’t worry – this is Warden business. It will not affect the Inquisition in the least.”

Zevran noted how his Warden kept her impassive mask in place, hiding behind her work as usual. He sighed – Cullen kissing her was completely unexpected, even for him. It would be a while before she finally worked up the courage to talk to the man normally again.

“Regardless, if you wished to call every commander of Warden to Skyhold, you should have informed us of your plans.” Cullen insisted, his jaw clenched tightly.

“This is a very sensitive Warden matter. I will not risk a word getting out that every Warden leader will be away from their post.”

The two glared at each other, fuming, their wills battling against each other in a silent war. Zevran sighed.

“My dear Warden, Nathaniel here is ready to fall asleep on your chair.” He said, and her attention snapped back.

“Right. Nathaniel, go get some rest. Thank you for keeping the Wardens sane, and getting here so fast. Why don’t you think of your time here as a vacation? Maker knows you need one.” She winked, and Nathaniel stood slowly.

“I’ll see you at dinner?” He asked as he moved towards the door. She nodded. “Of course. I’ll introduce you to some of the Orlesian Wardens later over supper.”

Once Nathaniel was gone, uncomfortable silence stretched out in the room, and Zevran groaned inwardly. He could practically feel the tension growing between the two. But before he could leave to give them some space, his Warden abruptly turned on her heels, and marched out of the room briskly. “I must see to my Wardens, Commander. Excuse me.” And just like that, she fled the room.

He chuckled as he moved to follow her. “Cullen, it seems that my Warden is avoiding you.”

“Maker’s breath. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I need to apologize to her. Maker, I need to apologize to you too.”

He arched his eyebrows at the man, as Cullen sighed and met his eyes.

“My actions are inexcusable. I truly do not know why I did that. I’m sorry.”

“Did what, exactly?” Zevran drawled, making the man squirm. There was no harm in having a little fun.

“Uh… that is…”

“Trust me when I say that it is not I you need to talk to. You already know what you need to do, no?”

The man slowly nodded. “Yes. I will talk to her.”

“Excellent. Don’t worry, Cullen. I shall make myself scarce when you do.” He moved to leave.

“Zevran!” Cullen suddenly called out, and he looked over his shoulder.

“Why?” The man’s golden eyes met his.

“You’d make her happy.” Zevran shrugged. “And that’s all that matters.”

Grinning, Zevran stepped out of the small room, once again following his beloved Warden.

* * *

“Solona? What are you doing here? Where’s Zevran?” Leliana looked up as her friend climbed up the stairs to her small post up in the tower. She looked weary, but to her relief she didn’t see the signs of bone-deep exhaustion that often brushed past her friend’s features.

“I’m hiding.” Solona sat on her table, moving a few reports out of the way. “I think Cullen’s looking for me. Zev’s sweeping the Keep for Crows.” She lightly swung her legs as she balanced herself on the very edge of the table.

“Is that so?” She arched her eyebrows, and Solona sighed.

“I know, I know. I should talk to him. But what am I supposed to say?”

Leliana couldn’t help the smile that spread over her face. Solona had that strange effect on her.

“Did you enjoy the kiss?” She teased her.

“Maker, yes.” She blushed. “I can’t believe I did. It was in front of the entire Skyhold!” Suddenly, Solona stood up and paced. “Did I kiss him back? I don’t remember. I don’t know if I did.”

She whirled around, looking at Leliana.

“Eleven years! Eleven years I’ve wanted him, and he decides to kiss me for the first time in front of my men! What are they going to think? My Wardens just saw me kissing the Inquisition Commander! How am I supposed to lead them after that scene?”

“So you do like him.” She laughed as Solona blushed again. “Leliana, be serious! I’m not a young girl bumbling through apprenticeship. I’m the First Warden for Andraste’s sake! I can’t go around kissing men I’ve had crush on when I was a child!”

“You liked him when you _were_ a young mage freshly out of apprenticeship, but you didn’t kiss him then. You might as well kiss him now; make up for the lost time. And don’t be ridiculous. Wardens aren’t going to question your authority just because you kissed Cullen. For them, your word is law. You hold absolute authority.” Leliana giggled.

“I was busy with a certain Blight thing going on back then, if you remember.” She grumbled.  “And things are even worse now. Darkspawn magister from the very dawn of time is prancing about, twisting Wardens around his fingers with a fake Calling.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t take some time for yourself. Plus, last time you the disaster hit, you were with Alistair. Why not Cullen?” Leliana shrugged.

“Leliana, you were at the Kinloch Hold. He was _tortured_ for days _. Weeks!_ With _my_ image.”

“Didn’t seem to bother him earlier today, did it?” Solona glared at her, and Leliana sighed.

“You should be talking to him about this, not me.”

Solona climbed back onto her table, once again swinging her feet in the air.

“Talking to you is less scary. And I get to glare without feeling guilty.”

“Scary?”

“Hence the hiding. He’s so intimidating.”

“Glaring?”

“He got mad that I didn’t tell the Inquisition about the meeting I called for all the Warden Commanders.”

“I see.” She paused. “How is Zevran taking it?”

“I talked to him earlier, and he said as long as it works out in a way that lets him get into bed with both me and Cullen, he was happy.” Solona shook her head, and smiled. Her hand played with the earring on her right ear. “He knows I love him. I don’t think he’s worried.”

“You can’t avoid Cullen forever.” Leliana gently chided her.

“I can sure as hell try. Plus, we have an assassination to stop. That’ll keep me busy enough.”

“We have four days before we set out for the Winter Palace.”

“I’m very good at avoiding things.” Solona wiggled her fingers. “Like putting on dresses for example.”

“You _will_ wear a dress at the ball. That is not up for discussion.”

“Yes, Leliana.”

“And do your hair.”

“Yes, Leliana.”

“And wear makeup.”

“Yes, _mother_.”

Exasperated, Solona threw her hands up, and Leliana couldn’t help but smile. “Knowing you, you’ll probably show up covered in darkspawn blood from head to foot.”

“I _promise_ that I will be presentable.”

“Presentable does not mean ceremonial armor.”

“I get it!”

“Did you get the invitation yet?”

Solona blinked as Leliana completely switched the topic.

“Yes, I got it earlier this morning. Empress Celene would be delighted to welcome me to her ball.” She shrugged, her small shoulders rising and falling quickly.

“Perfect. Now, since that’s what I needed to confirm, I’m done with you. Go run along and find Cullen. He wanted to apologize.”

“You can’t throw me to the wolves! I’m your friend!”

“I’m not throwing you out to the wolves. I’m throwing you to a lion. _The_ lion.”

“Shh! He’s downstairs!” Solona suddenly ducked beneath her table. A moment later, Leliana could hear Cullen’s gruff voice from below as he asked Dorian if he’d seen lady Amell. Her friend stayed down until fading footsteps and Dorian’s snickers signaled his departure.

“How’d you know he was below us?” Leliana peeked over at her friend, curious.

“It’s his lyrium. I can sense him when he’s around, especially if I’m actively feeling out for it.” Solona replied, as she stood up and stretched.

“You can tell a Templar by their lyrium?” That was new. Leliana’s never heard of such a thing before.

“Well…” Her friend blushed once again prettily. “I can’t tell other Templars apart. Just him.”

“And you’re using that to avoid him? You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Oh, he’s coming back. Don’t you dare tell him I was here!” Solona grinned, and sprinted away, and Leliana couldn’t help but giggle. Her friend was hopeless.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Version. Here is the [link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4163601/chapters/27441195) for the remastered Second Chance for Him story.

She was avoiding him.

Cullen was certain Solona was avoiding him. She was usually in his office by midmorning. And yet, even as the sun inched along the sky, reaching its peak, she was nowhere to be seen.

Sighing, he glanced at her desk for the twentieth time in the past hour – his eyes roaming over the piles of maps and reports strewn about her desk. Steady stream of messengers flowed into his office, delivering reports and requisitions anda Maker knows what Warden business related things to her desk despite her vacancy. Cullen suspected that the reports were being poured onto her desk simply because the Inquisition messengers did not know where the elusive First Warden was.

Cullen dragged his eyes back onto the requisitions he was holding in his hand, trying to read the tiny scribbles scratched onto the paper. But his treacherous mind wondered far away from the form, despite his best efforts.

Maker, where _was_ she? One thing he knew about Solona was that she took her job very seriously, always giving her very best to perform her duties flawlessly even if she did grumble about it jokingly on few occasions. It was very unlikely for her to shirk her duties just so she could avoid him – which meant she was most likely doing _something_ with her Wardens _somewhere_ , since all her paperwork was slowly overtaking her desk before his very eyes.

He shook himself, once again trying to focus his mind on the Inquisition matters at hand. It was a small blessing that Dorian and Bull didn’t come by to tease him about the incident the day before. Cullen wondered exactly why they hadn’t – and Hawke too – but whatever that reason may be, he prayed that it continued to keep the men away from the mortifying topic of the sparring.

Perhaps he could claim insanity due to his lyrium withdrawals. Blame it all on his withdrawal symptoms and beg for forgiveness. Cullen made a disgusted noise at himself, knowing it to be a lie as soon as the thought crossed his mind.

But where in the Void was she? He could sit at his desk, mulling over the incident for hours, but he knew it wouldn’t help until he confronted her. And clearly, he wasn’t going to get any work done while he still felt her soft lips being pressed against his mouth, his fingers following the elegant curve of her neck, getting tangled in her silky hair, his tongue delving into…

Cullen pressed his head into his hands, dropping the requisition request, and groaned.

Cullen was no innocent fool. He’s lain with women in the past – trying to release the tension in his body before it reached a breaking point, and if he was honest with himself, trying to rid the images of demonic Solona from his mind with the flesh of real women rubbing against his skin. He saw the benefits of sexual release, and there’s nothing wrong with having a little fun after all. But one kiss from Solona, and he was reduced to a blushing, miserable idiot, unable to function even the most rudimentary skills such as _reading_.

He reminded himself of the time at the Ferelden Circle, green recruit with a foot in his mouth whenever she was around. And she was _always_ around – as watching her was his duty. He was just glad that he’d never worked up the courage to kiss her then. Considering how he was behaving a decade later, he was sure he would have made an even bigger fool back then.

His door swung open, and he lifted his head to look at Mira walking in with Warden Tanner.

“Commander.” They both saluted. He idly noticed that Wardens were saluting him lately – and wondered if that was due to their respect for his Inquisition position, or the strange relationship he had with the First Warden. He knew the rumors spread like wildfire in the barracks – no doubt the Ferelden Wardens knew by now of the disrespect he’s shown their beloved leader.

He sighed as he noticed how his mind started to spiral out of control, jumping from one thought to another without reason. And not a single thought that’s crossed his mind today have been productive.

“Yes?” He forced his mind back to the present, as Mira and Tanner both stood waiting.

“Ferelden Wardens have been properly seen to, ser. They’ve been given necessary quarters.” Mira reported.

“Good work. Warden Tanner?”

“First Warden Amell wishes to introduce the Warden officers to the Inquisition military officers. She ordered me to inquire for a convenient time for the Inquisition, Commander.”

“I see. Where exactly is Warden General at the moment?” He tried to sound detached, but Mira and Tanner shared a knowing look with each other. _Why did I even bother_? The entirety of Skyhold knew how he felt about her after that display the day before.

“She’s at the Herald’s Rest with her closest officers, Commander. But please note that you did not get this information from me.” Tanner chuckled. “I’m afraid my barrier spells are not sufficient enough to protect me from her if she were to find out I told you.”

Confused, Cullen shook his head. “She ordered you not to tell me?”

“No ser, she did not. But anyone with a brain knows not to expect to live after telling you.” Tanner grinned mischievously.

Cullen nodded solemnly, a playful smile ghosting across his lips despite himself. “I seem to have a sudden thirst for some ale.”

Mira and Tanner both smiled as they left him alone in his office. He glanced down at the yet-again-discarded report, wondering if he should make another attempt at it, before shaking his head. No, he knew he wasn’t going to get any work done until he saw her again. He stood stiffly, his muscles protesting after being still for so long, before he made his way over to the tavern.

But Cullen didn’t make it to the Herald’s Rest.

* * *

“So? What’s the Warden thing that I needed to know about? You never told me last night.” Solona glanced at Nathaniel as she drank from a mug. They were on the top floor of the Herald’s Rest – she was taking advantage of the quiet space while the spirit boy Cole was out of his usual perch, helping those in need.

Nathaniel was sitting at the stairs, leaning slightly back while she herself leaned into Zevran, Barkspawn warming her feet. Oghren was drinking as usual, also sitting on the stairs, a little higher up than Nathaniel.

“Among the mages I brought yesterday,” Her commander began, sipping slowly. “There is a man hiding.”

Solona arched her eyebrows at the cryptic comment, then motioned for him to stop. If Nathaniel was being cryptic, she wanted to make sure there were no prying eyes or ears trained on them. With barely a thought, she swept the area around them with her magic, and to her satisfaction found only the slightly drunk patrons a floor below them. She nodded for him to continue, letting him know it was safe.

“When you stopped by Vigil’s Keep and Amaranthine on your way to Skyhold, the word got out that the Hero of Ferelden was back. People flocked to see you – as I’m sure you know.” Solona grimaced, her mind briefly returning to her desk filled with correspondences requesting her presence and opinions. While she was off on her quest for the cure, nobody had bothered her. She missed the peace and quiet, when nobody needed her opinions on things like land disputes.

“One man in particular insisted on meeting you. Anders.”

 Her mug cluttered to the floor as the name fell from Nathaniel’s lips. _Anders_.

“You brought him here?!” She screeched, unable to hold back the tirade of emotions coursing through her. “Here? To the Inquisition? There’s a Seeker here! Templars! Cullen! Maker, what were you _thinking?_ ”

She felt Zevran’s arms wrapping around her, and she tried to focus on that, struggling to control her breathing. Zevran’s embrace kept her together, from falling apart, breaking into millions of pieces.

“He came by a few days after you left the Vigil’s Keep. I kept him under lock and key, and was going to send you a report when the word reached us that you died.” Nathaniel shook his head. “Then we weren’t sure what was going to happen, and for a month nothing really did happen. I wasn’t sure what to do with him, and he didn’t seem to know either. Then the word came that you were still alive, and you wanted me to bring the Wardens. Anders insisted that he tag along.”

Solona closed her eyes, trying to fight the tension gripping her body. “How many Wardens know about him?”

“All fifty mage Wardens I brought knows. I wasn’t going to risk having an abomination among them without letting them know. They’re all the ones you handpicked and trained yourself, absolutely trustworthy. I have them all sworn not to speak of it.”

She nodded. “And he’s hiding among them at the barracks?”

“Yes. I figured it’d be best if we kept him there until you knew what to do with him.”

The pressure was building from within. Solona was exhausted – even though she was physically fine, she had to admit her mentality was in a precarious state. Everyone looked to her to save the world. She reigned atop the Wardens, wielding her powerful magic against legendary enemies as everybody expected her to. But she was human too. She played her part – the brave Hero of Ferelden, the perfect leader for the sake of the morals of her men, but more often than not she felt lonely, nothing more than an occasionally revered statue collecting dust. It was those few companions she had like Zevran and Oghren that really _knew_ her, under the suffocating titles and comforted her. Only they kept her sane through countless disheartening missions and deaths she caused.

The time she spent searching for the cure for the Calling had been a disappointment after disappointment, eating away at her spirit. Solona didn’t have much time left, already having spent a decade of her tainted life. Fifteen more years, maybe twenty, and she’d have to walk the dreaded Deep Roads again, with no one standing by her side that time.

And she gave up the search to stop this monster from taking over the Thedas, and her people, her brethren. Since then she’d been alone in the Fade, suffering the lingering taunts of Nightmare she’d killed, and… and _that_ happened… and then there was Cullen kissing her, and she didn’t even know what she was doing anymore. The old familiar uncertainty reared its ugly head within her, as she shuddered to face down this new catastrophic problem. Anders.

He was her mistake. She was the one who’d recruited him into the ranks of the Grey Wardens, gave him the freedom from the Circle he’d craved so much. She provided a chance for him to meet Justice, and she only observed as Anders merged into one with Justice, becoming an abomination. Every drop of innocent blood spilled by his maddened quest for mages, every child crying out in fear as the war between Templars and mages raged on, was her fault.

And now, Anders was back, and she had to find a way to deal with him.

Why was it that nothing in her life was ever easy? It’s always, you need to choose a king for the dwarves, or should Alistair or Anora be the royal head of Ferelden, or should you kill all the mages in the Circle, save the fucking Ferelden by sacrificing your life! Oh, and let’s not forget should I kill the talking, thinking darkspawn Architect or no? And now, she needed to figure out what to do with the mass murderer, the cause of the Circle rebellions across the Thedas, instigator of the war between the mages and the Templars that _she_ let loose in the first placey. Why is it that every impossible choice that shaped the world repeatedly presented itself to _her_ , of all people?

The burden of command was a heavy one, she’d joked with Cullen, teasing him about his tired features reflected in her face. But that was only partly true. The burden of command was something she could work through, something she could handle. But the weight of the entire Thedas rested heavily on her shoulders since she was sixteen. For eleven long years she’d carried the crushing weight, gasping and crying for a brief respite from the cruel fate that insisted on placing her at the center of whirlwind of deadly events in darkness, and yet never had a moment for herself. She yearned to take a break, to _rest_ – but knew that once she did, countless innocent lives would be lost because she wanted a moment of peace. How many Wardens would have died if she didn’t intervene at the Adamant? How many innocents would have been killed by the demon army her Wardens conjured up? She could never stop being vigilant, could never relax her guards fully.

The knowledge, the pressure of the lives depending on her tore at her from the insides, excruciating pain from being crushed underneath the burden growing by every passing hour, for the past decade.

She brutally shoved the thoughts spiraling out of control aside in her head, knowing that she couldn’t afford to break down. She could _never_ afford to break down. Taking a deep breath, inhaling Zevran’s scent of leather and metallic oil, Solona reached for some semblance of calm, of sense. Anders was here, and that meant precautions had to be taken.

“General? Are you alright?” Nathaniel’s sharp eyes seem to pierce through the mask she wore, to the weak uncertain fool she hid from the world.

“I’m _fine._ ” Solona instantly regretted how sharp she sounded. Nathaniel didn’t deserve it.

She opened her mouth again, about to tell Nathaniel that he’d done a good job, when her cousin strode up the stairs.

“Hey cousin! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Garret dropped next to her, looking disgruntled. He was always cheerful, dealing with stressful situations with laughter and snide comments just like Zevran. But looking at him closely, Solona could tell that her beloved cousin was distressed.

“Garret! And what could my talented cousin possibly need a dour woman like me for? Did you set fire to the winery and need me to replace the bottles before the Ambassador skins you alive?” She teased gently, waiting for him to share whatever it was that he needed to.

Surprisingly, Garret moved right on. “Solona, as much as I appreciate your miserable attempts at jokes for my sake, you should know right away.”

She sat up slightly, wondering just what would make her flippant cousin serious.

“Warden Commander Clarel just woke up. Leliana wanted me to tell you.”

And just like that, a small bubble of calm she conjured up around her popped. She grit her teeth, and locked down the power trembling within her, boiling, pushing against the restraint she placed on herself.

Anders was more than what she could handle at the moment. And Clarel chooses today of all to wake up? What the fuck did the world have against her? Her hands clenched into tight fists, and her magic thudded with her heartbeat, screaming and straining against her senses, the wall she’s built through years of discipline splintering with tiny cracks.

“Is she coherent?” She spat the words out, her wrath spilling over into her voice.

“Yes. She’s been made aware of the current situations. She is asking for you.”

Blood roared in her ears, and her lips actually curled up in a silent snarl. She could feel her mind threatening to snap under the added duress. The strain of her time in the Fade, of Anders and Clarel, of secrets she knew of Blackwall and Solas, of the Calling stabbed into her mind, and she had to swallow the scream of pure agony. Unable to sit still anymore, she bolted for the door, running out of the warm stuffy tavern, leaving behind her baffled friends.

She shouldn’t be behaving like this. She couldn’t afford to behave like a young Mage. She sobbed as she bent over the battlements, trying in vain to grasp some sort of normalcy, of serenity. Solona’s detached part of mind briefly wondered if it would have been better for her if she was turned Tranquil, instead of being recruited into the Grey Wardens all those years ago. She needed to be a leader, inspiring and ruthless, standing strong where others have failed. That’s what was asked of her, and she should give no less for the people depending on her. But at the moment, Solona was failing miserably.

The titles she wore shackled her down, kept her caged. It blistered against her nerves. She wanted to scream, to vent, to simply not _care_ anymore. So what if the world was dying again? She’s saved it once before. She shouldn’t have to save it again. Let somebody else deal with this stress for once. She was sick of being the First Warden, of the Hero of Ferelden. She hated it all. She hated having to be so perfect all the time. Of her men looking at her with reverence, of people whispering in her wake. Of praises people sang of her quests, and of insults her enemies threw against her. She just wanted it all to go away, and leave her alone. She wanted to be normal, to be _human_.

Her ears caught the scuffling noise as her friends scrambled to follow her out into the cold mountain air, heard Garret and Nathaniel’s worried voice pulling at her. Oghren’s rough hands patted her back but Solona’s heart hammered against her chest, refusing to slow down. Her breaths came in short gasps, her lungs seemingly lacking oxygen she desperately needed, but at the same time feeling too full. Her clammy fingers clutched at her chest, trembling with power straining against her skin, trying to explode out of her.

She was just glad there were no Inquisition guards or Wardens around to witness her breakdown. Having her friends see her like this was degrading enough. She was Solona Amell, exceptional since her apprenticeship. No one was supposed to ever see her so helpless. Shame burned her face, even as her rebelling magic frosted over her skin.

But she couldn’t breakdown. No, not her, not ever. Solona couldn’t. Her nails dug in deep into her palms, drawing blood as she struggled to force large gulps of air down her throat, even as her body worked to reject it. The amount of power she had – if she lost control – Solona’s body shuddered once again.

No, she couldn’t lose control. Skyhold would crumble to dust if she were to let out her savage temper.

Zevran’s arms wrapped around her, as he embraced from the back. Somewhere in the back of her head, she noted how her friends stood by her side, worry etched deeply into their faces. But she couldn’t focus on that. No, her power needed to be controlled.

“My dear Warden.” His soft voice murmured into her ear, and she clung to it for dear life, for dear sanity. “My beautiful Warden.” Zevran’s velvety voice glided over her heated skin, and focusing on him, she started to reign in the power threatening to shatter her heart. She could control herself. She would.

“You are human, just like the rest of us. There’s no shame in this, my dear Warden.” Zevran never stopped talking, his arm keeping her grounded. Solona wondered just how Zevran knew exactly how she felt. “It only shows the strength you hold within you, my Grey Warden.”

But the magic inside her refused to be pounded down. She’d never had a magical outburst before – she held far too much control over her powers for such a thing to happen. But at the moment, her carefully honed control was all but gone. Solona cried out in frustration, but Zevran soothed her.

“You’ve never let yourself go, my dear Warden.” He whispered gently. “You deserve to let go, to rest.”

“I can’t.” Her voice trembled as she rasped past her tears. “I can’t. I’ll kill them all. I can’t.” Where in the Void were the Templars when she needed them? Did they not feel her magic raging out of control? Of the savage destructive power moments away from erupting, tearing her body to pieces?

“You can.” Zevran crooned, his soft voice a comforting lull. “There’s a place where nobody is. No trail, no Inquisition scouts, no training soldiers. Let loose, my love.”

She choked back the shocked gasp, her concentration momentarily broken as his words hit her. She knew he loved her, but to hear it from his lips… it brought unknown strength back into her limbs. She struggled again, with renewed fervor as his hand brushed against the earring she wore. “Where?” She panted.

“Five miles northeast of here. Small valley about two miles wide. My scouts just inspected it and declared it clean, so there should be nobody there. You can see it from here. Aim for it.”

She started violently as Cullen’s unexpected low voice answered her question, and her eyes slid over to see the Templar standing next to her. His face was set, though she couldn’t tell if it was concern or anger she saw in his eyes.

“Will you not Silence me?” She gasped as another wave of power pelted against her skin.

“I will not.”

“Why?”

“I’m no longer a Templar, and you are no longer my mage.”

She closed her eyes as nausea claimed her stomach, twisting it into knots, knowing that her body couldn’t contain the power for much longer.

“I may end up blowing up this whole place.”

“You won’t.”

“I may kill everyone here!”

Cullen’s fingers moved up to her face, and she blinked her eyes open, staring into his golden eyes. His hand gently caressed her face, wiping the tears away.

“I trust you. You won’t harm anyone.”

Solona slowly counted the golden specks in his eyes, controlling her breathing, trusting Zevran to hold her. Her eyes moved down Cullen’s sharp nose, to the jagged scar cutting across his upper lip, to the light stubble covering his strong jawline.

Five miles northeast of here. She turned her head to look over the battlements, her vision clouded with the agony clawing into her mind. Cullen said there won’t be anyone there.

She could let go. She wouldn’t have to control herself so closely, monitor her actions so tightly.

Two miles wide. She fought viciously to channel her rampant power, directing her hand towards the area Cullen pointed out. Zevran and Cullen’s touch kept her strong, allowing her to focus.

Torrent of power burst forth from her fingertips, far stronger than any she’s ever let out before. She screamed as her magic erupted from her, blasting away everything in its path.

Lightning storm roared over the said valley, violet electric bolts striking down every tree unfortunate enough to stand there. Fire roared up as each trunk groaned and screamed, splitting under the pressure of her magic. Ground trembled and tore itself apart, leaving gaping holes leading into deep abyss. Boulders shattered like glass, fragments tearing through air. The mountain snow melted as forest fire blazed through the blackened trees.

The valley lay in complete ruin within moments, fire burning around the edges, unable to spread past the barrier Garret set up. Everything within the valley was blasted way, decimated down to dust. The very earth was torn apart as her magic seeped into the dirt, and only a huge crater remained.

Solona swayed, then fell, only to have two strong pairs of hands catch her before she could hit the icy stones. Cullen held her arm while Zevran held her waist, each supporting her.

She was so tired, so spent after the outburst that she could barely keep her eyes open. But she was free! She didn’t have her restless magic simmering beneath her skin, searching for even a moment of lapse in her judgement. She’d let go, finally, after twenty seven years of living in constant fear of her unbridled power.

And Skyhold stood unharmed, protected from the full blast of her magic. She laughed, relief and joy spilling past her lips. Her magic hadn’t blown Skyhold to smithereens. And nobody had died.

“Solona, you ok?” Garret looked concerned, his hand wiping away a bead of sweat on her forehead. Barkspawn wiggled his tail, barking happily. Her mabari knew she was fine.

Solona felt giddy with the lack of control she was always exerting with her will. The feeling of just letting go still lingered in her belly, foreign but comfortable. Her eyes met her precious friends’, and she smiled. It was them that shared the burden of the world with her, keeping her from being crushed. They kept her smiling, happy, helping her in any way they could, and they did so willingly. To her, their love and friendship was more valuable than anything she possessed. For them, for her friends, she would save the world ten times over.

“Yes.” She laughed, holding onto Zev and Cullen. “I am fine.”

And this time, she wasn’t lying.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Version. Here is the [link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4163601/chapters/27441195) for the remastered Second Chance for Him story.

Cullen watched as Zevran gently lifted Solona into his arms, cradling her tightly. The man held her close, making sure she was positioned comfortably. His gaze held such soft tenderness that even Cullen’s heart ached in response.

“Zev…” She mumbled tiredly, “let go.”

“Never.” Zevran smiled into her hair. “My dear Warden, you really should learn how to rest.”

“But the tunnels…” Solona wiggled, pouting and looking the part of a petulant child. “I need to inspect it… I need to go now.”

“Warden General, I recommend you take a rest. I’ve seen a mage expend all their energy before. It’s not a pleasant sight.” Cullen mustered his most professional voice. Maker help him, all he wanted to do was to embrace her as Zevran did, but after his blatant display of affection the day before, Cullen knew better than to touch her again.

“I didn’t use all of my magic!” She whined.

“You came close.” Cullen shook his head firmly.

“But I have things to do!”

“My Warden, whatever it is can wait. Or order your men to do it for you. What is the point of being the boss if you do not order your men about? Listen to the strapping Commander.” Zevran kissed her earring lightly.

“I have Warden bossy things I need to do. And an ex-valley to inspect.” Solona amended.

“And you can do them later. After you take a nap.” Hawke firmly pressed down on his cousin, shaking his head. “Listen to Curly, Clarel can wait.”

“Clarel?” Cullen started, looking to Hawke.

“Clarel regained consciousness. I was just telling my cousin here when she felt like obliterating a valley.”

“Garret, shut up.” Solona turned, finally settling down as she wrapped her arms around Zevran. Using her foot, she made a weak attempt at kicking Hawke.

“Nathaniel… scouts… need to go now.” She mumbled, barely audible.

“Don’t worry your tiny arse over it boss.” Oghren grumbled before the Warden Commander could speak. “I’ll scope it myself. Whatever roasts your bronto.” Nodding, she turned to look at him.

“Commander, would you please make certain that Clarel talks to _nobody_ until I speak with her?” Her droopy eyes sought his, and swallowing hard at the contact, Cullen nodded.

“I’ll see to it.” He answered roughly.

“That’s enough, my Grey Warden.” Zevran murmured quietly, even as he started to walk away. Cullen longed to follow, but kept his feet planted on the battlements. Whatever Solona needed, he was certain Zevran could handle it.

“Cullen!”

As if reading his thoughts, Zevran craned his neck over his shoulder, calling out his name. “Do bring the report to her room without delay, would you? I’ll be waiting for you.” After arching his brows suggestively, Zevran disappeared from the view.

“Report?” Cullen wondered out loud.

“For the scouting, Commander.” Nathaniel sighed next to him.

“There is a slight chance that the crater she just opened up may have connected with the Deep Roads running underground. So far as we know, there are no dwarven tunnels underneath this area of the Frostback Mountains, but it is better to sweep the area now than to be surprised with darkspawn horde later.”

“I’ll take a small scouting party of five.” Oghren rumbled.

“Take an Inquisition scout as well. They will show you the quickest route there.” Cullen put in, his mind already wondering off. His eyes settled at the vast chasm opening up to deep abyss a distance away, speculating just how anxious she must have been to blast away a _part of mountain_.

“And Nathaniel? Perhaps you may want to come up with a story about why there’s a giant hole in a side of a mountain?” Hawke idly tapped his foot, his gaze following Cullen’s. “I would rather avoid the whole panic stampede from Skyhold if possible. Not a pretty sight, that.”

“Maker, I haven’t even considered that.” Nathaniel groaned. Hawke simply shrugged. “This is why being an apostate is useful. You learn to watch out for things like these.”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, knowing that he needed to tell them. He’d already sent out the messengers for the Skyhold, the moment he’d felt her magic stir restlessly. He’d all but kicked his guards off the battlements in his haste, just barely moments before Solona burst out from the tavern. It’d been a very close thing. Without his sensitivity to her magic, he’d have had no warning at all.

“Commander Nathaniel? I’ve already ordered my messengers to spread the word that First Warden was experimenting with some battle spells.” Cullen spoke slowly, his eyes still settled on the blackened mountainside amidst the silvery snow. “It wouldn’t do for our stories to mismatch.”

He could feel the man’s eyes carefully scanning him, and pointedly kept his eyes focused off the battlements.

“I appreciate the quick thinking, Commander.”

Nathaniel didn’t ask how he knew of her outburst before seeing it, of how he knew to take precaution even before the blast. Nodding gratefully, Cullen turned around, and walked back towards his office.

 

*******

 

Cullen tackled his work once again, determined to catch upon whatever he had neglected during the morning. He tapped his fingers, shook his head, and scowled at the reports until the words finally, _finally_ , started to register in his pounding brain. It was slow going, and his withdrawals raged up with force. His hands shook, tiny needles stabbed into the back of his eyes, and he knew he was running a fever.

Cullen had known the brief relief from pain would not last forever. But he shuddered as his body once again screamed in protest, his senses desperately reaching for the blue vial in his desk. His foul mood wasn’t helping the matters either. He caught himself snapping at his men, barely restraining his temper. His men didn’t deserve his ire, and Cullen already regretted his harsh words. He knew he wasn’t fit to lead the Inquisition in that moment, and shame colored his mind.

 _If I’m unable to fulfill what vows I kept, then nothing good has come of this!_ His eyes sought the drawer that hid the blue relief, keeping his hands wrapped tightly around his pommel. Should he take it? Cullen knew he was risking much, when he refused to take it. But could he really afford to go through withdrawals _now_ , with Corypheus hounding them at every corner of Thedas? He couldn’t even begin to fathom how many lives depended on their success. Cullen couldn’t afford to be distracted.

_I should be taking it._

Quick knock at his door dragged his eyes away from the table, his mind away from that twisted logic. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Cullen called out for the person to enter.

To his surprise, Nathaniel strode in. He was clad in blue leather armor with the metallic Griffon emblem resting proudly across his chest.

“Warden Commander. Is there something I can help you with?” He straightened up, giving the man his full attention. Well, as much attention as he could afford, while battling the sharp stabbing pain in his head.

“Please, Nathaniel will do.” He raised his hand. He wasn’t like Zevran, Solona’s other rogue. He didn’t smile as often, and he didn’t radiate sexuality the way that elf did. Then again, nobody was as sexual as Zevran was. He was businesslike and professional, as Solona often was, but lacked the witty amusement that sparkled in her eyes from time to time over the span of long war meetings. But Cullen could tell from the way he carried himself that he was a confident leader, well-liked by his men. And while he was among friends, his face easily broke into humorous laughter, casual and friendly.

“Cullen.” He nodded, smiling a little. He could grow to be friends with this man, he thought. “How can I help you?”

“Oghren just returned from sweeping the crater.” Nathaniel stood across the table. Cullen watched him, grateful for the welcome distraction from the blue vial whispering to him.

“Here’s the report – it doesn’t seem like there are any Deep Roads are connected to the hole, so we may rest easy.” The man pushed the report onto Cullen’s table. “Would you mind terribly if I asked you to bring the report to the First Warden’s quarters?”

Cullen lifted his eyebrows at the man, incredulous. Did he truly think to use him as a messenger boy?

“As I recall, Zevran specifically asked for you.” Nathaniel shrugged.

“We have messengers running about.” Cullen grumbled out.

“And yet none of those messengers have… _sparred_ with the First Warden.”

Cullen glared at him, crossing his arms. He had to remind himself that Nathaniel was _not_ someone he could simply yell at to go away.

“Wouldn’t it make sense to send someone who hasn’t?” Cullen bit off each word sharply. His head throbbed heavily.

“You two can’t avoid each other forever.” The man shrugged again. “It’d be best for everyone if you two got it over with, so we can get some work done.”

With that, he turned and left, leaving the report untouched on his desk. Cullen glowered at it.

But Cullen also knew Nathaniel was right. With the two commanding officers avoiding each other continuously, Inquisition and Grey Wardens were unlikely to get any work done. Grabbing the report roughly, hating how his hand shook, Cullen left to search for the First Warden.

 

*******

 

Cullen walked slowly, climbing the stairs one by one. Josephine had offered one of the best quarters available in Skyhold for Solona, but she had gently refused the room. Instead, she took to using a small, dusty room overlooking the gardens, barely large enough to hold anything more than a bed and a chair. She’d smiled when Josephine fussed, saying she’s not used to sleeping in plush beds.

He gripped his pommel tighter, willing the tremors away. Clenching his jaws, Cullen took in the door standing slightly ajar. With a deep breath, he pushed it open, and entered the dark room. His eyes immediately settled on the two prone forms lying on the bed, freezing him in place.

Solona was wrapped up in blankets, coddled warmly inside the sheets winding round and round her. Zevran’s one arm was draped loosely over the thick bundle. His other arm lay beneath Solona’s head, allowing her to snuggle close to him in her sleep. But what truly struck Cullen into shocked stillness was Zevran’s whispered murmurs, quiet and gentle.

“Ten years, my love, and yet I still do not know if my voice keeps you company in the Fade.” The elf nuzzled her loose hair.

“You slumber deep in the mysterious corners of the Fade, where I cannot hope to reach you. You slip past my fingers so easily, even when I try to hold on tight. Must you leave me alone, leave me behind so often? My cruel Warden, must you scare me so? To think once more, that I’ve lost you. Will I ever forgive myself for leaving you behind in the Fade? Will I ever overcome the nightmares of the night you slew the archdemon?”

Zevran sighed, closing his eyes against the horrors he must be thinking of.

“You lay so still on the roof, your scream so pained. Your lips cold to the touch. You thought you were going to die, my Warden, and spoke of it to no one. You would have gone to the Beyond that day, willingly, and that scares me far more than the archdemon breathing fire at you ever did.”

Cullen watched, enraptured as Zevran kissed her hair, and then her single earring.

“Here you are, in my arms once again, the same as that day on the Fort Drakon. Will you always return to me, my Warden?” He mumbled to her. But Solona remained quiet, sleeping deeply, her breathing even.

“No, no, what a foolish thought. Such romantic notions aren’t suited for your silly assassin, no? I know nothing beyond simple pleasure and death after all.” He chuckled quietly. “Though, if I say so myself, I speak both quite fluently.”

Zevran sighed, his low velvety chuckle trickling away.

“And yet… I find myself wishing to shield you from this world. Would that I could, I would fill your sight with sunlight, of sweet flowers, and of birds singing in the trees. You would only hear the laughter of your friends, and none of the screaming darkspawn. And my lovely voice of course.”

He kissed her softly. “Alas, such musings have no place in this harsh world that demands your powers. Such heavy weight rests on your slender shoulders, mi amor. But when you wish to let go of that burden, and take a brief rest that you so deserve, know that I will be with you, my daggers ready. While you slumber on, no harm will come to you, my Warden.”

Zevran pulled his arm up from the bundle, stroking her face gently, fingers lightly tangling up in her hair.

“Mi amor, I love you more than my heart was ever taught to love. My love, I feel more than I ever was allowed to feel. My Warden, the world grows stale and gray without you to brighten it up.”

Zevran pulled her slightly closer, burying his face in her silky hair.

Cullen could not bear to stand there a moment longer, intruding on such an intimate moment. His face burned with shame for having overheard such tender words, meant for none but Zevran’s dreaming Warden.

He turned to flee, to escape the sweet love Zevran enveloped Solona in. It wasn’t ever meant for him to intrude.

But Void take him, he was no rogue. His heavy armor clanged against the stone floor, and Zevran’s head whipped up, arm shooting out for a dagger, catching Cullen standing awkwardly in the room. Words died on his dry lips, as his eyes met Zevran’s dark brown eyes. Cullen knew he should apologize profusely, but no sound came.

“Cullen. Is that the report for my lovely Warden?” Zevran smiled cheerfully, lifting his head off of the pillows to look. Cullen nodded, unsure of himself.

But the elf didn’t even seem fazed at Cullen’s ridiculous breach of his privacy.

“Excellent. Do forgive the improper welcome, but this alluring creature is crushing my arm at the moment.” Zevran grinned, indicating at his arm serving as a pillow for Solona. Cullen reluctantly stepped closer, handing the report to Zevran’s free hand.

“I… I did not mean to intrude.” Cullen started, his voice hoarse. But Zevran just waved his hand, dismissing the apology.

“Do not concern yourself over such things, Cullen. But do keep it quiet, if you’re so inclined. My Warden does not need to know how soft her Crow’s become, no? Or her enemies as well, for that matter.”

Cullen just nodded. There was tightness growing in his chest, icy claws gripping his heart. With a terse, ‘excuse me,’ Cullen fled the dark room.

He crushed the urge to bolt, knowing that as a Commander he wasn’t supposed to run about in the keep. But he came close, his feet carrying him swiftly away from the small bed. He panted, breath coming in short gasps. He burst into his office, his eyes wild, sweat pouring down his back. Thank the Maker; no one was inside to see him so utterly undone.

He climbed the ladder to his quarters, desperate for the privacy he often did not care for. Once he was hidden away safely, Cullen began to pace. The bed Solona was sleeping in, illuminated only with late afternoon sun filtering through the dusty window haunted his mind.

He heard the soft murmured words Zevran spoke with crystalline clarity, despite the fact that they weren’t ever meant for him. Snarling, he punched the wall, bruising his hand. The pain did not distract him though. He punched the wall again, his armor clanging loudly.

The darkness tightened around his chest, choking him. Cullen desperately fought back against it, to push it back into the corner deep within himself, where he could go back to ignoring the ugly, corrupt thing. Cullen needed to push it back into the small hidden spot, so he could pretend it didn’t exist, didn’t torture his very essence every time Solona crossed his mind.

But watching Zevran had torn down the barriers he’d set up inside, and Cullen helplessly drowned in the twisted rage that engulfed him. He barely stopped himself from screaming out in frustrations, knowing that his guards would be able to hear.

He hated himself, as the sinful feelings washed him away. He waited for the inevitable jealousy to consume him, the way it had all those years ago, when Cullen had watched Alistair embrace Solona in the tower.

But the sinful cloud creeping over him was not what Cullen was expecting. The jealousy he feared did not come. Instead, untold rage and self-hatred took its place. He was filled to the brim with fury, at himself.

That surprised shocked him enough to examine why. Why wasn’t it directed towards Zevran? That elf held the woman Cullen’s dreamed of for a decade, but Cullen felt no anger towards the handsome man. Instead, he felt… ashamed.

He was ashamed to have kissed her so forcefully. He regretted endangering her relationship with Zevran with his thoughtless passion.

Gasping, Cullen fell on to his bed, finally halting his pacing. He’d tried to come between Zevran and Solona, even if it was unintentional.

What right did he have to jeopardize her involvement with Zevran? The man was clearly dedicated to her. Zevran was wholly _devoted_ to her, mind and soul. Unlike him.

Cullen had duties to perform. He had oaths he’d sworn. The best he could offer her was _nothing_. She deserved better than him.

A washed up ex-templar, too scarred by the world. A man, whose first duty had been to cage her, to kill her if she failed her Harrowing. A man haunted by nightmares and horrors from the past, who shuddered under the weight of crippling addiction.

A man, who couldn’t even look at her straight without her magic assuring him she wasn’t a demon. A man who’d hurt her badly, with spiked words, urging her to kill her friends and family. A man, who saw glimpses of purple skin and horns even now, fearing her, even as he desired her.

Cullen groaned into his hands, memories of a demon in her form riding him, hard and fast, cackling madly as he screamed overwhelming his mind. He shuddered as ghosts of claws brushed past his skin, and cried softly as he felt a demon’s tail wrapping around his leg.

A broken man, a damaged man, lusting after her, even as he feared her touch, was something Solona did not need in her life, ever. But in that passionate moment, while they breathed as one, Cullen had given into himself, kissing her desperately. He could have broken the bond she had with Zevran. And for what? So he could make her suffer along his addiction? So he could scream in her face, accusing her of being a demon as his mind slowly deteriorated with lack of lyrium?

He closed his eyes, once again seeing her smiling brilliantly behind his closed lids. Cullen would apologize to her, and he would do so sincerely. For she deserved better than him.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Version. Here is the [link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4163601/chapters/27441195) for the remastered Second Chance for Him story.

She looked out over the balcony, her gaze sweeping across the snowcapped mountains. Breathtaking view, to be sure. Jane sipped delicately at the hot tea she was holding. The elegant aroma of Prophet’s Laurel and Amrita Vein wafted around her slowly.

Jane enjoyed this time of the day, when the sun was setting slowly, basking her room in fiery red. She would always have a cup of healing tea, looking out over her Skyhold. She delighted in the power she held over the keep, safe within the mountains.

But tonight, her private time was marred by a certain mage. Jane struggled to keep her face composed, knowing that allowing her face to break into disapproval would line her face if she wasn’t too careful. But the mage plaguing her keep was downright abhorrent.

Her green eyes reluctantly settled on the dark hole gaping on the side of the mountain, ugly black blotch, vividly stark against the soft white snow covering the landscape. Forcing herself to breathe deeply, calmly, she took another slow sip of the tea.

The hateful mage had blown up an entire valley earlier that day. Not a trace of it remained now.

Despite herself, Jane felt her hands tightening on the fine teacup. It wasn’t fear, no. It was anger, she told herself. An entire valley, she fumed, decimated. Without a single word of warning for the Inquisitor.

She’d felt the shockwave when the first burst of power had come, so powerful that it nearly stopped her heart. Then came the electric storm, lightning thundering across the sky in bright purple rolling mass. Everyone had panicked at the sudden magical shit storm conjured up right on the doorstep of Skyhold, flailing around helplessly until Cullen’s messengers informed them of Solona’s _experiment_.

When she’d demanded an explanation as to why Solona saw fit to put a giant hole in her mountain, the bitch couldn’t even bother to come herself. The best she got was a messenger stammering out something about battle spells and experimentation for the corrupt red lyrium dragon.

Jane’s lips slowly curled up in a silent snarl, as the image of the Warden floated into her vision. Long, thick black hair flowing down her slender shoulders, covering countless faded silvery white scars, black glimmering eyes that seemed to pierce straight down to her soul. She _despised_ that woman.

Jane knew she was a weak mage, unlike Solona Amell. There was no two ways about it. She struggled even to light candles with her fire, one of the most basic spells mages mastered during their apprenticeship. But she’d never felt ashamed of her weak powers. In fact, she’d reveled in it.

The Templars ignored the weak mages, and she’d been one of the weakest. She’d stayed quiet, out of sight, out of mind, casting her small spells, remaining safely away from scrutiny. She’d watched quietly as those more powerful than her were branded with lyrium, forced into Tranquility. The magic was dangerous for the wielder.

Instead, she honed her skills with other weapons. Her words were as sharp as any Templar’s blades, her mastery of the Game as sturdy as any magical barrier her peers could cast. She did not need her magic, not while she played the Game.

She’d sharpened her skills, honed her words, learned to mask her emotions and ambitions while her fellow mages and Templars sneered and jeered at her flitting magic. She suffered through, until one day, she rose to the position of power where she could smile and wink at them, and they would tremble with fear at what she might do to them. Few choice words, and she could have Knight-Lieutenants begging on the streets for lyrium. Magic wasn’t a tool she could use. It was a disguise of weakness she hid behind until her true power grew. As her father had taught her, it was always better to be underestimated.

It was a good life, a perfect life. And then the entire world had gone mad.

Jane had protested violently against the mage rebellions. What did they know of a life outside of the Circles? Bandits, poverty, hatred against mages, mobs, famine, and Maker knows what else awaited them outside those protective walls. But the foolish mages voted against her, and every Circle in Thedas had been dissolved.

She attended the Conclave in the vain hope that the war would end, that she could go back to the beautiful courts, filled with lacy dresses and handsome nobles, and tiny cakes tasting like liquid silver. But even the Conclave was blown up by a power-crazy darkspawn magister. And it left its green mark on her hand.

Jane’s eyes flitted down to her left hand, curled around the warm teacup. Light green glow was visible, even now. But at least, the Mark didn’t hurt anymore, not after the Breach was closed. Before then, the Mark had throbbed painfully, tearing her arm apart from the insides. At least, that’s what it’d felt like.

Her mind travelled back to the day when she’d woken up in the miserable dungeon, wet and filthy. Her hands had been chained down, and her hair was tangled up dreadfully, her makeup smeared horrendously. But she couldn’t care about any of that, because the Mark on her hand was downright _killing_ her, literally.

She’d followed the Right Hand of the Divine desperately to the Breach, in the dire hopes of closing the Maker-damned tear in the sky before it swallowed her up. The pain had been unbelievably agonizing, making her faint in the Temple of Sacred Ashes. But she lived through it.

Jane was so happy to be alive, that she stumbled in her Game when she woke. She forgot to properly assess the people around her. She’d just assumed the leaders of the Inquisition to be like her, noble-born, cunning, masters of the Game. For Andraste’s sake, Cassandra and Leliana were the Right and Left Hand of the late Divine Justinia!

Sister Nightingale did not fail to meet her expectations. But Cassandra was no better than a thug, a brute drinking themselves drunk in a pathetic tavern. That woman had no finesse in her touch. Like an angry bear – she finally saw a real bear, courtesy of a rift opening up in a forest - Cassandra charged headlong into troubles, until she pummeled it down in to the Fade. Jane took another sip of the tea, shaking her head. How she became the Right Hand of the Divine was truly a mystery.

Jane was scared witless when she’d gone to the Hinterlands, seeing for the first time of the world beyond the Circle walls. There were dead bodies littered across the road, smell of rot assaulting her sense. Demons raged around, ambushing the unsuspecting travelers. Templars and mages were killing each other at every opportunity. Filthy, disgusting refugees cried for mercy, begging for coin and food, for blankets to keep their miserable limbs warm. She hated every second of it, wishing to be back in the wonderful court of Free Marches, where glittering gems hung from her hair, and beautiful satin shoes softly wrapped her feet.

It was days, weeks even, before Jane finally gathered her scattered wits about her. But by then, the damage had already ybeen done. The leaders of the Inquisition did not trust her, and she knew Cassandra and Cullen thought her to be an airhead. She couldn’t undo what had passed, no matter how badly she wanted the past to change. Instead, she worked to build up with what she had.

Jane knew it was foolish to hope for the life gone past. There was no way she could return to being the master Game player at the Free Marches court, not with the Mark glowing on her hand and rifts scattered across Thedas. But Maker favored her, and she was given the title of the Herald of Andraste. And being the devout Andrastian she was, Jane knew just how much power such title could grant her.

And she didn’t need magic to rule the Inquisition. Diplomacy and alliances with nobles could give her everything she ever wanted. So when Leliana had suggested an alliance with Solona Amell, most influential figure in all of Thedas, Jane had pounced at the opportunity.

Now, she regretted it more than anything she’s ever done.

Jane noticed she’d drained the cup, and poured more of the Prophet’s Laurel tea. Her mind wondered back to the day Solona had stormed into her war room.

The stories told of the Hero of Ferelden depicted a woman ten feet tall, with lightning shooting out of her eyes. Tales of her conquests could be heard throughout the entire Thedas, and Jane had been expecting a woman that lived up to the legends. Strong, tall, dependable woman, warrior-like and plain darn scary, with death clinging to her like second skin. But Solona was nothing like that.

Standing only at five feet three, she was a very slender woman. Jane was shocked to discover that small woman – almost a girl – giggling and laughing silly while lying on her war room floor was indeed Solona Amell, First Warden and Hero of Ferelden. Solona was a youthful, vibrant thing, completely opposite of the image of cunning woman Jane had come to believe in. It was somewhat disappointing, though she supposed she should have expected it. Rumors were seldom reliable. But most importantly, Jane had been relieved, knowing that allying herself with Solona would make her more powerful. And the mage barely seemed to know anything about playing the Game. Jane could easily use this foolish Warden, and discard her after she took all Solona had to offer for her. Jane would thrive on Solona’s supposed influence.

Just three days later, Jane knew she’d been deceived, manipulated into letting her guard down by the deceitful bitch. When Solona swept in to the Skyhold’s main hall with her small entourage, she was nothing like a girl Jane could easily brush off as she had been during their first meeting. The woman thrummed with power Jane had never even dared to imagine, and she was more beautiful than any Jane’s ever met at countless balls, even while being clad only in crude, unflattering blue Warden armor and with no makeup to enhance her beauty. Her ringing voice commanded respect and obedience, and her presence dominated the minds of every living soul in Skyhold.

Jane knew she’d made a terrible mistake then. She’d underestimated the Grey Warden. In her desperation, she’d lashed out at the young woman, hoping to goad her into losing her composure during the war meeting. Then Solona had turned that piercing gaze of hers onto her, stripping away years of barriers Jane had built, and smiled.

Jane would have preferred being slapped by her, than to receive that tiny smile. Solona was so powerful, so confident, everything Jane had ever wanted to be. Any mage that powerful should have been turned Tranquil long ago. Solona should have been made Tranquil. Jane simply couldn’t understand how Solona had avoided that dreadful fate in the Circle, without the illusion of weakness to hide behind. Despite wielding tremendous amount of power, Solona did not fear possession by demons. She laughed at the absurdity of being possessed, truly confident in her abilities to beat back the monsters. And on top of that, Solona held untold influence over countless courts spread across Thedas, one Jane could only hope to match one distant day. And despite being out in the harsh world for so long, beyond the protection of the Circle, Solona wasn’t broken or condemned as the Chant said she should be. She glittered like a polished gem, beautiful and strong, aspiring people to follow her effortlessly. And she rubbed it in Jane’s face with that perfect smile of hers.

Knowing there was no way normal rules applied to that monster, Jane changed her tactics. Jane behaved in most unbecoming ways, throwing countless insults at the mage just to see her perfect composure crack, even for a moment. The closest Solona’s come to cracking her iron professionalism had been a smirk, when Jane had handed the woman a poisoned cake. Solona took the cake, met her gaze squarely, smirked, and swallowed the poisoned food, all the while laughing and joking with her companions. The icy cold in her eyes told Jane everything she needed to know, however. Solona had known it was poisoned, and she’d eaten it anyway, telling Jane that no matter what she did, Jane couldn’t crack Solona. Jane sat seething throughout the rest of the meal that day, hoping for signs of pain or distress, but knowing it wouldn’t come.

And despite having everything Jane wanted, Solona stole what was supposed to be Jane’s. Which included her Commander.

Her Cullen, usually so composed and strict, swooned over Solona constantly, worrying after her wellbeing like a mother hen. When Jane had first laid her green eyes on the man, she’d instantly wanted the tall, handsome Templar. She’d flirted with him, courting him, and delighted in the adorable blushes she drew from Cullen, and smiled at the endearing stutter that would consume his speech. She watched for his schedule, doing her best to match their meal times, to walk by the battlements whenever he was out training his men. She sometimes snuck into his quarters while he preoccupied, riffling through his things to figure out if they had some sort of common ground. But his room was barren, offering her no useful information.

Her efforts at light conversations also failed miserably. He never talked about anything beyond Inquisition related matters with her, and despite her continued efforts to eat together, Cullen never seemed to actually _eat_ , unless his subordinates brought the food to his table and reminded him to do so. She’d employed all her usual seduction against him – the tantalizing robes, the lavender scent, carefully groomed smiles and the constant eye contact. She’d gone as far as to put her perfume on his pillows, so that he would smell her and dream of her as he slept. Not that he seemed to sleep much either.

She’d been so _certain_ , that he was a virgin, so sure that it was his lack of experience that kept him at a distance from her. She did what she could to encourage him, to show that he could _take_ her – but he refused every advance she made. She had even gotten to a point where she wondered if he’d taken a vow of chastity. But no, it wasn’t a vow that held him back, but that spiteful little mage.

When Cullen was around Solona, his behavior changed drastically. He somehow seemed more alert, more present. His eyes trailed after her constantly, and his hands twitched every once in a while, starting to move towards her, only to pull back with a conscious effort. Watching him around her, Jane finally realized that the blushing and the stuttering hadn’t been his embarrassment, but his discomfort. And after that heated display in the courtyard, Jane knew Cullen was anything _but_ a virgin. She clenched her teeth tightly, unable to keep herself relaxed any longer.

As if her stealing the Inquisition’s Commander wasn’t enough, Jane’s soldiers worshipped Solona’s beauty, power, and easygoing manner. Her own Spymaster giggled with her, sharing secrets that nobody else knew. Her inner circle members looked to her with respect that Jane never received.

Only Vivienne understood the pain Jane felt, noting how the unassuming mage stole all that Jane was supposed to have. It was her that had the Mark on her hand, not that black haired little runt. Maybe the Mark didn’t come from Andraste as most people believed, but so what? Maker worked in mysterious ways, and the fact remained, it was Jane that held the power to save Thedas in her hands (literally), not that Warden whelp.

Putting down the teacup, Jane thumbed the small vial sitting on her desk. It was tiny – fitting inside her palm easily. It contained one of the most deadly poisons available – Quiet Death. It was known to be so potent that it unnerved even the most experienced assassins. She’d pulled many favors to get this poison into her possession.

She’d used only deathroot in the cake, easily countered by experienced herbalists. But against Quiet Death, not much could be done. Jane smiled happily. She’d get rid her Skyhold of Solona, one way or another, and she’d do it soon, claiming what was rightfully hers.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Version. Here is the [link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4163601/chapters/27441195) for the remastered Second Chance for Him story.

“Finally!” Solona cried happily, sprinting towards the crates stacked up by the well. The requisitions she’d sent to Amaranthine had _finally_ arrived at Skyhold. Humming happily, she tapped on the Ferelden Warden sorting through the list, making sure everything was in order. Barkspawn wagged his tail excitedly by her, knowing she’d ordered some extra-special treats for him too.

“First Warden!” The man saluted her sharply, turning around.

“Morning, Bert. At ease. Is everything here?”

“Yes, ser. I am going through the list once more to be absolutely certain, but there seems to be nothing amiss.” The man relaxed, smiling.

“Great!” Solona clapped her hands together, rubbing. She would have enough decent equipment for her Orlesian men now, keep them alive in the field a while longer. And she’d ordered some little things for herself to indulge in as well. Barely able to keep her excitement in, she searched for the crate that held her private purchases.

“Any special word from Wade about this batch of shipment?” She called over to Bert, still searching for her stuff.

“No, ser. Just the usual complaints of his skills being wasted on common armor.” Bert grinned, and Solona laughed. She was all too familiar with Wade’s thirst for exceptional crafts.

“Tell him I’ll go ahead and kill a couple more high dragons, just for him.” She laughed. “That should tie him over for a while longer.”

“Yes, ser.” Bert laughed along with her.

Giving up the search for her crate, Solona turned to look at Barkspawn. “Ok, Barkspawn. Find the crate with your treat in it. Go on!”

Barking happily, her mabari raced off, running in circles around the huge pile of crates. Smiling, she looked back to Bert. “Anything else I should be aware of?”

The Warden looked at his notes briefly, before nodding. “Three hundred horses came, as you ordered, for the Orlesian Wardens. Two hundred more coming with the next shipment, ser. They were delayed by a storm hitting the Amaranthine port.”

Solona nodded, motioning for him to go on. “No problems with the food provisions, everything came as ordered. We will need to negotiate for the space to store them in with the Inquisition though.”

“I’ll have a word with Josephine later today.” Solona made a mental note to herself.

“New armors for Orlesian Wardens, a new staff for you, some new blades for the warriors…” Bert rattled off, counting off with his fingers.

“Bert,” she stopped him, and he looked up.

“Summarize, Bert. You can make a full report later.”

“Of course, General.” He looked sheepish for a moment, before looking over the notes again. “That seems to be all, then.”

“Perfect. Keep up the good work.” She smiled, patting the man on the back. The man grinned and nodded, just as Barkspawn came bounding back.

“Oh, and I’ll be taking that crate with me. Can’t wait for a messenger boy.” She grinned, before following her mabari to the unremarkable crate sitting innocently on the ground. With a wave, she pulled the heavy package into the air with her magic, and ran for her small room, eager to open it.

 

*******

 

Solona sat on the bed, slowly sorting through the items in her crate. Barkspawn sat on his haunches, waiting excitedly. His tongue rolled out freely as he panted, his paw placed over her knee as he begged for his treat.

“Soon, Barkspawn. I promise.” She laughed at her eager friend. But then, she was just as eager too.

She pulled out the new bow string she’d ordered for Nathaniel. It’d been a while since she’d given him the last one. She set it with the items she’d bought for her Wardens, next to Mackay’s Epic Single Malt for Oghren. It had to be better than whatever it was that dwarf was drinking at the moment.

Then her fingers wrapped around the meat biscuits for her dog, and smiling she tossed one at Barkspawn. Jumping easily, her mabari caught it and gobbled it up in an instant.

“Good boy. What a good boy.” She crooned, as she continued to pull out more things. She sighed happily as her fingers closed around some oranges – oranges! – it had been _far_ too long since she’d had her favorite fruit. Smiling happily, she peeled one and stuffed the slices into her mouth, waiting for the burst of citric flavor exploding as she chewed. It was heavenly.

“Mmh. What would I ever do without oranges?” She murmured, closing her eyes and savoring every drop of the fruit.

“Hopefully I would satisfy your hunger in its place, my Warden.” Zevran’s amused voice chuckled, and Solona snapped her eyes open. Her Zevran was leaning against the open doorway, looking at her fondly.

“Oh Zev, would you like some?” She handed him the other half of her peeled orange, grinning. Zevran knew just how much she whored after the fruit. Nodding, Zevran took the slices and sat down next to her on the bed.

“What’d you order this time?” He asked dryly, eyeing the various items scattered over the bed.

“This and that.” She shrugged, nibbling on another slice. “Bow string for Nathaniel, alcohol for Oghren, dog biscuits for Barkspawn, dried Andraste’s Grace for Leliana…” She checked off the mental list. Zevran chuckled and shook his head.

“And something for you as well, of course.” She grinned, finishing the last of the slices. Waving her hand, she sent all the oranges in the box over to the small table, where an empty bowl waited. Dropping the sweet fruits, she dug into the crate, looking for… yes!

“Here, for you.” She smiled, handing Zevran the wrapped bundle. Arching his brows, Zevran took it.

“Go on, unwrap it.” She urged, and Zevran deftly untied the strings, his limber fingers making short work of the velvet hiding his gift from sight. She blushed lightly as her mind flashed back to the nights when he’d used those fingers on her, making her writhe helplessly.

He whistled once the items were visible under the heavy cover. He lifted the daggers lying there, unsheathing it fluidly. It glinted in the dim light, its edges wicked sharp. Zevran spun them, testing the balance, the weight. For few minutes, he remained absolutely silent, focused on his new gifts.

“What material is this?” He spoke finally, running a finger down the sharp blade.

“I sent that meteor metal ore we found to Mikhael. Asked him to craft it into daggers for you. How do they feel?”

“Like an extension of my limbs, mi amor.” He breathed, twisting the blades and watching them catch the light at different angles.

“Mikhael named them Starfangs. I’m glad you like them.” She smiled, kissing him lightly on the lips. Zevran sheathed the blades, quickly replacing the scabbards hanging on his back with the new ones.

“My dear Warden, if you continue to spoil me like this, I may end up growing fond of you.” He chuckled, his fingers brushing against her earring.

“Oh my, what a terrifying thought!” She grinned. “We can’t have that now, can we?”

Zevran responded by throwing himself onto her, pushing her down onto the bed. His hot weight pressed into her heavily, and his lips burned against her own. His sweet tongue pried her mouth open, and she sighed happily into him. His hand stroked her loosened hair, framing her face. Her own hands reached up to his hair, her fingers entangling in his long brown locks.

Barkspawn made gagging noise by their feet, and Solona and Zevran both burst out laughing, unable to help themselves.

“We shall have to continue this later, when a certain mabari isn't around.” Zevran chuckled into her ear, slowly moving off of her. She groaned in protest, even as she moved to sit back up.

“What’s that in the crate?” Zevran peered over into the box, noticing the last remaining package. She paused for a moment.

“It’s healing herbs I found. Some royal elfroots, arbor blessings, crystal grace… Andraste’s grace… I sent it off so they could be dried, so they could be brewed for tea. I had it done for Cullen…” She shrugged. “But I don’t know if I’ll give it to him.”

“Oh?” Zevran raised his eyebrows at her.

“I don’t know if I should give him a gift after he kissed me.” She admitted. “And yes, I am still avoiding him.”

“What a shame.” Zevran purred. “I, for one, would love to watch you lose yourself in throes of passion, while he buried himself deep inside you. He’s a fine creation Maker’s placed in this world, yes? What a magnificently filthy sight that’d be.”

“Zev!” She gasped, heat blooming in her face as she blushed mortifying red.

Just then, her mabari flipped the crate over with his paw, and grabbed the bundle of tea leaves in his mouth, and ran out the door.

“Barkspawn, no! That’s not for you! Bad dog, drop that!” Solona scrambled after her dog, as her mabari yipped excitedly and bolted away. That blasted dog knew the package was meant for Cullen, and was enjoying the chase. One of these days, she was going to electrocute that dog. She could hear Zevran laughing maniacally, gasping for breath behind her on the bed.

“Barkspawn, get your muddy arse back here this instant!” She called, not caring for the looks the Inquisition guards threw at her as she raced down the battlements, following her blighted mabari. Purebred mabari, Andraste’s tits, she was going to strangle that mutt today.

The dog just let out a muffled bark, his mouth clamped over the wrapped package. She was going to set that dog on fire!

“This is your last warning, Barkspawn! I _will_ use magic!” She nearly tripped over an uneven stone floor as she turned a corner. “I’m serious!”

Barkspawn just let out an amused whine. Her dog knew she’d never use magic on him. She cursed.

“Maker’s hairy ass, Barkspawn, I’m not going to give you your treat!”

But by then, it was too late. Barkspawn had already pushed his way into Cullen’s office, leaving the door hanging wide open. Inside, he paused and looked back, his short tail wiggling. She shot him a murderous look. But the dog didn’t budge. Panting heavily, she slowly walked into Cullen’s office, dreading the prospect of having to face the Commander.

She was going to walk in, grab her sodding dog, and walk right back out, she swore. Nothing more. Not a word to Cullen.

* * *

 Cullen squinted, trying to shield his eyes from the piercing light. It was very dim in his office, as he blocked out most of the harsh sun’s rays, but his pounding head screamed even at a sliver of light filtering through his window.

He could barely think past the pounding headache, millions of tiny blades cutting into his skin. He was flushed, fever raging rampant, and despicable _need_ coursed through his blood, the blue lyrium aching in his veins.

He hissed through his teeth, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Maker, if only the pain would let up for a _minute-_

But spikes of sick, painful cravings drove into the base of his head with each strained beat of his heart, each pulse bringing fresh wave of nausea to wash over his stomach. He groaned quietly, as tremors gradually clawed its way up from his hands to his arms, slowly overtaking his body.

It was as if a dam had burst open this morning, where all the pent up pain and frustrations he beat back for the past months have surged forward in one agonizing torrent of suffering designed just to crush him.

Cullen closed his eyes as tiny sparks of light exploded across his vision, blinding him. _Maker give me the strength to resist the song_ , he prayed. The yearning, the pain, it was _relentless_. Would he ever be free of the shackles Chantry cast upon him? He would rather die than to go back to that life, to the Order, but could he afford to go through this torture now? While the world was ending around them? He couldn’t be distracted from the Inquisition’s goals. Thedas depended upon their success.

Cullen had sworn to give no less to the Inquisition, than he did the Chantry. Promises meant nothing if he couldn’t keep them. He should be taking the damned, vile thing. It would give him relief, and he would no longer feel so exhausted all the time. He would be focused with it _. I swore myself to the Inquisition’s cause! I need to take it!_

Sweat poured down his back, making his hair curl hopelessly, and he roughly shoved it out of his face. His body burned uncomfortably, and standing around in his full heavy armor was no doubt worsening the matters. But as the Commander of the Inquisition’s forces, he needed to be here, now, ready for anything. He shifted carefully, unbuckling the sword from his side to lean it against the table. It was the most he could do for himself at the moment. Every nerve screeched against the pain, setting his teeth on edge.

Slowly, he opened the drawer holding his lyrium kit. His blood boiled hotter with every inch he pulled, until the small, well-worn wooden box was completely visible.

_I should be taking it!_

Cullen glared at the innocent looking box, every fiber of his being singing for the cool metallic taste to bloom over his tongue. Just a drop, he thought, just a drop or two to soothe the frantic craving pulsating with every breath he took, with every thump of his heart.

With shaking hands, he drew the box out of the drawer, and set it atop his desk. He loathed it, even as he longed for it with every ounce of his being. His hand curled tightly into a fist over the hood of the box. His jaw clenched so tightly, his teeth ached, adding to the seemingly endless list of his body parts that was hurting.

_I should be taking it!_

With a roar, Cullen slammed his fist down onto the table. He felt it bruise, for once feeling pain that wasn’t related to his pathetic addiction. It shook him out of the grip lyrium held over him long enough to put the box back in the drawer, and slam it close with enough force to make his table strain. But he couldn’t muster up the willpower to toss the Maker damned thing out of his window.

At that moment, his door opened up, and Cullen turned to look at Rylen and Barris entering from the side, holding reports in their hands. For a moment, he stared at them, uncomprehending, before his mind finally caught up to reality. He was still the Commander. He moved to straighten up as they walked closer, but froze when he caught a whiff of pungent metallic smell.

They’d both taken a draught of lyrium recently.

Cullen screamed – he hoped it wasn’t out loud – as his innards twisted with violent need, wanting to cry, to sob into his desk, and at the same time wanting to smash anything and everything within his reach. He needed to get those two Templars away from him – before he lashed out, killing them. He needed to get away, there had to be some place in this blighted world where lyrium did not haunt every corner of his awareness. There had to be a place where he was _safe_ , for once. He opened his mouth, praying, _praying_ that comprehensible words would come out to tell his men to go away, to leave him _alone_ , when the door opened again and a purebred mabari bounded in.

The unexpected sight of a huge war hound prancing into his room stayed his maniacal babbling he was about to spout. Confused, all three men stared at Barkspawn as the dog shook its hind quarters energetically, before yipping. The loud bark split his mind into two, and Cullen swayed, his vision blurring.

And then she stepped through his door, her face set in a hard mask, her body held stiffly. Her black eyes swept across his office with lightning speed, and Cullen felt his lungs close up, refusing to take in air. Why, _oh why,_ did she choose to come by now of all times? His fevered mind instantly conjured up the purple skin, the tiny horns. He fought viciously against the whimper clawing its way out of his throat, as she took small delicate steps into his office. Demonic tail swished behind her legs.

Cullen couldn’t take it any longer. He felt his control snap, its tenuous hold over his crude madness cracking. His body shook so badly that he feared he would fall, while his men watched. Cullen worked his lungs desperately, to bellow at everyone in his office to get the _fuck_ out – when Solona started to cast her spells.

The cool wave of magic washed over him like a gentle breeze, soothing his raw nerves. His body finally gasped for air again, saturated with her calming presence, and bloody red haze he hadn’t even noticed finally lifted from his vision, allowing him to _see_ properly.

Thick reports fluttered across his office, from her desk into her outstretched slender fingers – not claws. She kept few more reports floating around her, and Cullen sent up a brief prayer of gratitude to the Maker at her continued spell. He’d gotten far too close to losing himself to the frenzied madness, only to be pulled back by her sweet magic.

“Knight-Captain Rylen, Ser Barris.” Solona’s voice cracked sharply, bringing his men to attention right away. “I have business to discuss with the Commander. Leave us. Make sure we’re not disturbed.”

His two lieutenants looked to him, confused by her unusual brusque manner, asking for his orders. But before Cullen could even blink, Solona lashed out again. “Now!”

His two men fled quickly, closing the door tightly behind them. Solona proceeded to let her dog out through one of his side doors, murmuring something so quietly that he couldn’t hear, and then bolted all three of his doors. Cullen’s eyes followed her closely, the purplish scales slowly fading away, the horns receding from her head. But he held his body rigid, the lyrium still shrieking in his mind. Cullen knew he needed to face her, to apologize, but now was the worst moment she could possibly have chosen.

After she locked his doors, Solona strode over to her desk, her predatory gait swaying her hips, oblivious to his presence. Keeping her notes floating, she sat down on her chair, and started to read the correspondences piled high up on her desk. It took a moment for Cullen to realize that she was ignoring him, _completely_.

“What are you doing?” He croaked, wondering if he could ask her to leave as well, without making her suspicious. He curled his hand around his sword leaning against the table, gripping it tight to hide the tremors.

“Working.” She responded simply, not bothering to even glance in his direction. She licked her thumb lightly, then flipped a page of the letter she was reading.

“After chasing my men out?” He growled, his voice too harsh. But Maker help him, he was getting _angry_.

“They were distracting.” She waved her hand dismissively. Another wave of magic rolled off of her, and Cullen heard a light _plunk_ as ice dropped into a copper jar on his desk. He scowled as she conveniently left out exactly what his men distracted her from.

“What business do you have with me?” He couldn’t stop talking, despite the obvious strain coloring his voice. Cullen needed to hear her voice, countering the howling lyrium in his blood. He felt his wrath expanding, taking over his senses. What right did she have to come sauntering in, disrupting him?

“None.” She flicked her hand, and the copper jar flared red, heated with her immolate spell. The ice melted instantly.

“You’re certain?” He spat, willing her to focus on him. She did – her eyes blazing with anger at his severe voice.

“Yes,” she snarled, matching his tone. “I have _nothing_ of importance to discuss with you.”

The water in the jar boiled, overflowing as her anger fueled the spell. Moving with tight, jerky movements, she stood up, walked over to the jar, and tapped something into it. She was ignoring him, _again_. Cullen continued to watch her, his and her own anger distracting him from the lyrium in his desk. His eyes roamed her body, drinking in the rare sight of her clad only in light sky-blue tunic shirt and a white short skirt, its edge brushing above her knees. Her hair was left unbound, unlike her usual tight ponytail or a braided bun. It curled gently, coming to rest over her swelling breasts.

Bolstered by his rage, Cullen stalked over to her. Snatching her wrists roughly with his hand, he spun her around, then pinned her against his desk in one fluid motion. His armored body pressed against hers, keeping her immobile, and his hands gripped her wrists tightly, trapping them by her sides on the table.

“The kiss, it wasn’t nothing.” He growled, barely hearing the words tumbling out of his mouth. All he was aware of was the lyrium thrumming in his body, the way it was reacting to her magic.

“Let go, Cullen.” She snarled, baring her teeth at him. “Or I’ll make you regret it.”

“Damn it, Solona!” He shouted, his eyes locked onto her furious ones. “You can’t ignore me forever! Or are you going to run away again like you did at the tower?”

“Last warning.” She rumbled.

“Try me.” He met her heated gaze, challenging her. He pressed even more firmly down onto her with his body, his face barely an inch away from hers.

She glared at him, her dark eyes passionate, but she didn’t cast any offensive spells.

“I didn’t _run_. I had a fucking Blight to deal with!” She hissed out, her eyes narrowing into slits.

“I was tortured for weeks! They tried to break my mind!” He roared, his enraged voice ringing loudly off his walls. “I watched the templars - my brothers and sisters, _my friends_ \- get slaughtered. I watched when Beval slit Annlise’s throat, and drank her blood for lyrium! Farris ate rest of Annlise, before the rot could set in, so he wouldn’t starve!” She winced, as he shook uncontrollably.

“And you left me alone in that blasted tower!” He accused her, unable to staunch the toxic flow of words rasping past his lips. Thoughts even he hadn’t realized that was plaguing his mind.

“All we had were stolen glances across the room back then! I’ve never even touched you before I dragged you out of that magical cage. I wasn’t obliged to stay with you.” Solona spat out.

“No, what I was, was a mage. One of the two last surviving _Grey Warden_ mage, and you were a Templar. What was I supposed to do? Nurse you while the darkspawn razed Ferelden? All the senior members of the Order were dead! Do you know how ridiculous it was? Two junior members of the Order trying to stop a Blight in a country that declared them traitors? Running from every guard in cities, avoiding every ruling power while trying to enlist their armies against the Blight! I’d been made a Warden _on the day_ _of_ Ostagar battle! And then the entire world depended on _me_ , of all people! Me! As if I knew what I was doing! I didn’t even know how to kill the archdemon!”

Solona paused, drawing in a ragged breath before she continued. She was still bristling with rage.

 “But I could fight. I could kill! I could slaughter every blighted creature standing in my way. But I couldn’t heal you. I couldn’t help you. I wasn’t going to terrorize your waking moments with my demonic images still plaguing your mind! All I could do for you was to leave, as fast as I could. That was the best _I_ could do for you.” She rambled on, spitting out the words as if they were a curse.

“I left, trusting your Knight-Commander to look after you. I made him swear to me that he’d do all he can for you. Gregoir assured me you’ll recover.” Solona whispered, her voice anguished. But she never broke the eye contact.

“I cut off Thomas’s head, when he begged me to help him, when it was just the two of us left. Maker forgive me for what I’ve done. I was raped, repeatedly, by desire demons! Again and again, they taunted me with your bewitching face. I would never have lasted as long if I hadn’t thought you dead at Ostagar. Sifting through my thoughts… tempting me with the one thing I always wanted, but could never have… They used my shame against me. They got so close, _so close_ to breaking me… until you came along and smeared the Circle walls with that bastard Uldred’s intestines. How was I supposed to be the same person after that? How was a supposed to _recover?_ ” He howled, as memories overwhelmed his fragile defenses.

“Still, I wanted to serve, so I fought. I fought at Denerim against the darkspawns in the army you led. But killing did nothing to sate my rage. So Gregoir sent me to the Chantry at Greenfell until I ‘leveled out.’” He laughed bitterly, and Solona cringed at the crude sound.

“But I wasn’t going to level out. I knew the dangers mages posed. I wasn’t going to rest while innocent Templars blind to the terrors mages could unleash stood guard over them. So they sent me to Kirkwall. And for what? I treated the mages there with unjustifiable distrust, no better than slaves. I trusted my Knight-Commander, but Meredith’s fear of mages drove her to madness! She ended up destroying the city. Kirkwall’s Circle fell, just like the Ferelden’s. Only that time, innocents died by the hundreds in the streets! I had to put that city back together, one broken piece by piece. City I helped her shatter in the first place!”

He panted, exhausted as the darkest fears he’s locked away inside himself ripped itself free.

“You think you can make me regret something? My entire life is full of it.” He sneered.

She watched him carefully, her eyes boring into his soul. Slowly, gradually, Cullen began to calm down under her steady gaze, his ragged breath slowly stabilizing. She did not flinch, nor look away as he dumped his shameful failures onto her, keeping herself strong for him.

“What do you want?” She finally spoke, tension growing to a palpable point between them. His head swam in confusion, struck unprepared by her question. What _did_ he want? The lyrium sang its sickeningly sweet song.

He wanted the lyrium. He wanted to feel it take hold in his body, spreading out to every limb, strengthening him. But more than that, he wanted to leave the Order, to cast off the leash he’s once so willingly clasped on himself. And he wanted her. Maker, how he wanted her. He impossibly tightened his grip on her even further. He _needed_ her, even more than the lyrium. It was her who haunted his mind during the lonely nights, not the demons, not the blue vial of lyrium. It was always her.

The lyrium and demons had tried to corrupt her in his mind for the past decade. Anyone sane would have let go of their desire for her by now. But like a stubborn brute that he was, he’d held on, fighting to keep his want for her. He wasn’t ready to let go of her.

Looking down into the deep pools of her eyes, so akin to gentle night sky dotted with stars, Cullen let out a shaky breath.

“You.” He whispered, his throat thick with need. “I want you. I’ve wanted you, since I was that naive Templar in Ferelden. Maker, Solona, you’re all that I want, all that I need.”

It was her turn to gasp, to freeze as his whispered confession rolled over her. Her magic faltered, and her steely glare melted into a tender caress.

And in that quick beat, Cullen’s headache came roaring back with savage force. He groaned, letting his head fall to the crook of her neck, his hands releasing its bruising grasp on her wrists. His body slumped, as pain heaved through, leaving him trembling weakly.

Solona’s arm wound around him, her magic once again wrapping around him gently. She cursed as she struggled to pour the liquid in the heated jar into a cup on his desk, while holding him up. Cullen forced his eyes open, looking beyond the tears that blurred his vision that had pooled from the pain, to her concerned face.

“You’re healing me.” He mouthed, finally understanding the good weeks he’d had, and why she didn’t attack him earlier. He had chalked it up to luck, to various distractions by her. But now, as his labored breath struggled to enter his body, Cullen could feel the soft nudges of her magic, coaxing his body to function, drawing away the pain so smoothly that he didn’t notice till now. She was already using her magic to soothe him, her floating notes and boiling water just a cover to hide her continuous healing spell from his Templar senses. She couldn’t attack him without ceasing the healing spell she was casting on him.

Solona paused her effort to pour the boiling water into the cup, looking at him carefully. Then, she shook her head, the long locks of her hair swaying with the motion.

“No, Cullen. I’m not healing you. There is no known cure for lyrium withdrawals.” She spoke, her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. “All I’m doing is taking away a little of your burden, giving you a little breathing room, so you can continue to fight.”

“So you know.” He sighed, as her magic erased the pain from his head. Now that he’s noticed, she wasn’t bothering with the façade of not helping. He straightened back up, afraid that he was crushing her under his heavy armor.

“I did find you atop that tower.” She mumbled. “And I rescued Ser Irminric in Denerim. I recognized the symptoms of lyrium withdrawal.”

She finally poured the heated water into the cup, and handed it to him. Warily, he accepted it, sniffed, and drank.

The warmth blossomed from his chest, washing away the tired lethargic tremors gripping his muscles. The drink filled him with renewed strength, wiping away the last traces of lingering want for lyrium.

“It’s an herbal tea I made.” Solona set the jar down, explaining even before he could ask. “I came across some pretty rare herbs in my travels. It’ll help you while I’m not around. It’ll also help with the nightmares.” She pulled a bundle of dried herbs from a small pocket, putting it on his desk.

“Thank you.” He tilted his head down, grateful that the insistent pounding that’d plagued him for days was _finally_ dissipating. And with that, his ability to think returned as well.

And the full meaning of his words he’d hurled at her just moments ago hit him like a boulder dropping atop of him. Maker, it was the Circle ten years ago all over again. He looked at her, still somewhat pinned against his desk, fiddling with her fingers, looking lost.

“Solona…” He whispered, not quite knowing what to say, but knowing that he needed to say _something_.

She dragged her eyes over to him, looking as uncertain as he felt.

“Don’t leave.” He quietly begged her, needing her.

She took a deep breath, looking a little scared, like him. But putting her small hand over his arm, she met his gaze. “I won’t leave.” She whispered back, looking up to him. “Not this time.”


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Version. Here is the [link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4163601/chapters/27441195) for the remastered Second Chance for Him story.

Cullen let her drag him up the ladders to his quiet room, too exhausted to protest effectively. That didn’t mean he didn’t try though.

“Solona, I still have hundred things to do…”

“And you can do them later.” She replied firmly, tugging him into his room.

“I should at least send word to Rylen.” He mumbled, following her.

“Maker, Cullen, don’t worry about it.”

His eyes trailed after her, her presence akin to a lifeline thrown for a drowning men. He supposed the truth wasn’t too far off – he _was_ drowning, just in lyrium. And he clutched at Solona desperately in order to breathe.

Her small callused hands grasped his left arm, tugging at each finger before easing the glove off of his hand.

“You’ve done this before.” He realized, as she repeated the same motion with his other hand. Most would have pulled the glove off with one strong pull, without freeing his fingers from the tight leather.

“Alistair wears heavy armor.” She answered, her magic gently placing his gloves on the bed. She focused fully on her task, keeping her eyes on him.

Alistair. Cullen’s overtaxed mind began to wonder, summoning up the image of the King of Ferelden he last saw in Kirkwall. For some strange reason, Alistair was always present in his life. They went through the Templar training together. They met at the Ferelden Circle, then at Kirkwall. They even loved the same woman. Maker had a strange sense of humor.

“How is he?” Cullen mumbled, recalling the strawberry-blonde head from memory. They were friends once, a lifetime ago. When they had both been young recruits, innocent and carefree, before the corruption of this world had a chance to touch them.

“Last I saw him, he was fine.” She replied, tugging at the tight knots hidden in crooks of his armor. “Though the next time I see him, I fear he will kill me for that stunt I pulled in the Fade.”

She easily untied his heavy armor’s buckles, unlatching his armor piece by piece, starting with his metal bracers. He stood silent as she undressed him, her warm fingers ghosting across his body. She immersed him in her attention, focused solely on making him comfortable. Cullen knew he should stop her, take off his own armor, but her unhurried and concerned touch was too pleasant, too relaxing.

After unbuckling his outer belt, Solona gently pushed his furred cloak off his shoulders. She folded it carefully and placed it next to his gloves on his bed, then put his belt on top. Then she moved onto his spaulders.

“You don’t wear pauldron anymore.” She commented.

“Gives me larger range of movement.” He shrugged. He watched her, drinking in every detail. Her eyes were slightly narrowed, her brows slightly creased as she focused on him. She was biting down on her full lips again – and he felt the lingering taste of her on his own lips. A reminder to their shared kiss. Maker, she was so _beautiful_.

Walking around to his back, she started to unlace his chest plate – pulling herself out of his hungry gaze. An involuntary groan escaped him once the heavy weight was lifted off, relief washing over his fatigued limbs. She sent the heavy metal floating over to his armor stand, placing it neatly over it with the spaulders.

She then pushed him gently until the back of his knees touched the side edge of his bed, and he sat down. Satisfied that he was going to stay, she knelt down, her hands reaching for his greaves.

“Wait, Sol. You don’t need to-” Cullen grabbed her hands, trying to pull her up. But she gently pried off his fingers, smiling at him. His protests stilled as her smile embraced him, thoughts tumbling off into the Void. Her amused grin lit up her gorgeous features, turning them _exquisite_. He gasped in a shaky breath.

“Hush, Cullen. Relax.” She lifted his right foot, moving to take his greaves off. She made short work of the number of buckles holding it in place.

“Solona, I can hardly relax while you’re on the floor.” He protested, exasperated, even as his mind struggled to function properly after that stunning smile. He wasn’t drowning in lyrium, holding onto her for dear life. He was drowning in _her_ , in his _need_ for her.

“Do you not like your women on their knees?” Cullen choked, sputtering at the unexpected tease.

“Maker! That’s not… you’re not…”

Solona laughed, lifting his other foot to take the last bits of his armor off of him. They floated away as well, but she wasn’t done yet. Gently, she tugged at his boots, pulling them off of him one by one.

“You know, this is only the second time I’ve seen you without your armor? First, actually. You still had your greaves on during our sparring match.” She talked softly, as she clambered up to her feet. He drank in the sound of her voice, calming and tender. She stood close, between his knees, as she tugged at his white cotton long sleeved shirt.

“What… what are you doing?” He stammered, as she pulled insistently at it.

“Your shirt, it’s covered in sweat. Take it off before you catch a chill.”

Cullen hesitated, because of course he did, but then shrugged. He grasped the bottom of his shirt and peeled it off of himself in one smooth motion. The chill mountain air clung to his skin, and he shivered slightly. After tossing the shirt off the bed, Cullen turned his head to look at Solona again, and noticed the slight pink glow at her cheeks.

“Are you blushing?” He smirked, unable to help himself.

“No! No, I’m… It’s cold in here. Why is there a bloody hole in your roof? There’re sodding tree branches growing into your room!” She squeaked. He chuckled, but didn’t press the matters. Maker, he was supposed to be _apologizing_ , not… whatever this was.

“Solona…” Cullen began, closing his eyes. He couldn’t look at her now, knowing that her striking beauty would make him falter. Knowing he wasn’t strong enough to resist her. But he’d sworn the night before that he’d do right by her. He swore, that she would not have to worry about his obsession with her. She deserved no less than his sincere apology.

“Shush.” She stroked his chin with her fingers, gentle yet slightly rough to the touch. Her hands were the hands of a military leader, strong and callused, yet she was still soft, still small. A delicious contradiction on his skin.

“Time enough for that later, Cullen.” He shivered again, as her voice caressed his name.

“For now, just relax and let me take care of you.” Cullen opened his eyes to look up to her, once again smiling earnestly. Her eyes met his, two deep pools of midnight speckled with stars. Her dark eyes no longer held her simmering anger, no decade long hurt left alone to fester. He found only genuine concern there. Swallowing hard, he nodded.

“Thank you.” She whispered, stroking his cheeks. Looking to where his wash basin was, she dropped ice in it, and began to melt it down. Her magic sang softly to him, its song comforting, lulling. A complete contrast to the demanding, taxing song lyrium sang. She radiated heat like a furnace, keeping him warm despite wearing only his thin brown trousers. Soon, she brought the basin floating over to the bed, along with a bowl, soap, and towels and put them on the empty barrel he was using as a night stand.

“Are you…?” He finally realized her intention as she dunked one of his small towels into the hot water inside the basin.

“Yes, Cullen. Unless you were planning on growing a beard?” Solona raised her eyebrows at him, and wordlessly he shook his head. He’d foregone shaving for the past few days, his stubble growing thicker than he liked. But with his hands shaking uncontrollably, he’d been unable to shave himself.

“You’ll have to talk me through it though. I’ve never, um, shaven anybody.” She admitted, as she patted down his chin with the hot towel.

“Maker, this is going to be interesting.” He muttered, thinking of the razor blade sitting on the pile of barrels in the corner of his room. Its sharp edge could slit his throat as easily as any dagger.

“If it helps you feel any better, I’m an excellent healer.” She grinned, holding the towel to his chin. Cullen just rolled his eyes and grumbled deep in his chest, knowing full well she could see.

“That’s long enough.” He said instead, gently grabbing her hand holding the towel - she was still hot to the touch, keeping his weakened body warm – making her jump slightly as his fingers brushed against hers – but did not move away or shake him off. Instead, she dropped the towel back down and reached for the soap, peering at it curiously.

“What, exactly, am I supposed to do with this?” She asked, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.

“I could do this part. All I have to do is make a lather to spread over my face.” Cullen shrugged, reaching for the soap. He felt a little out of place, as he sat still, watching her do all the work. It was strange. Maybe even wrong. He’d never let anybody take care of him before in such ways, even in those troubled days after the Kinloch Hold. He could never feel at ease, allowing someone to watch over him. But she lightly swatted at his hand.

“I told you to let me take care of you. Indulge me.” She winked, stealing another breath from him, before starting to rub the soap between her hands, rubbing and rubbing until light foam began to appear. Once she gathered enough, she brought both her hands up to his face, spreading it across his thick soon-to-be-beard stubble. Cullen watched her, entranced as she worked, noticing how the tip of her pink tongue poked out of the corner of her enticing mouth as she concentrated.

The heat from her hands warmed his skin pleasantly – he had to bite down lightly to stop a moan sneaking its way out of his mouth at her touch - and his mind briefly flashed to the words Cole had rattled off to him before Solona had come to Skyhold. The boy had said that she was a fire, warming his icy bones. It was true, both literally and figuratively. Solona had warmed his chilled body back at the tower when she’d found him, as he lay shivering and delusional. The same way she was warming him right now. But she also stoked the fire that flickered and stuttered inside him, coaxing it into a roaring flame with her attentive and gentle smile. The fire that demons, blood mages, and templars had tried to douse, she brought it to a blazing inferno.

He couldn’t help how his eyes sought after her, like a moth drawn to a fire. As she finished with the lather, Solona noticed his fervent stare and blushed. Heat rose to her rosy cheeks, and she coughed lightly before she dropped her gaze, washing away the last of the lather on her hands with the water inside the basin.

“Now what?” She asked, pulling his wandering mind back to the task at hand.

“Take the razor over there-” Cullen pointed at it with his hand, eyes still pinned onto Solona “and start. The goal is to reduce the amount of hair with each pass with the blade. Don’t try to eliminate all of it in a single pass.”

The razor floated over to her wet, outstretched fingers, and Solona stared at it dubiously.

“Do I have to use this razor?”

“What else would you use?” Cullen asked, wary of the blade glinting in her hands as she twisted it, making it catch the soft light.

“My dagger? Knife? I’m used to handling it better. Or even a switchblade?”

“Use what you want.” He sighed, wondering if he would live to regret the words he uttered. But as much as he grumbled, he trusted her implicitly.

Putting the razor down, Solona pulled a small blade from her wrist, hidden so carefully that Cullen had not noticed it until it was gripped loosely in her hand.

“Do you always have knives on you?”

“Knives on the wrists, daggers on the legs. Sharpened hair stick in the hair sometimes. Switchblade in breast band… and a few more places I won’t mention.” Solona shrugged, and Cullen raised his eyebrows.

“I’m not paranoid. People try to kill me a lot.” She huffed, noticing his look.

“Now tilt your head up.” She ordered, standing as close to him as she could, still between his knees. He could feel her skirt brushing up against his arms pleasantly. Closing his eyes, Cullen obeyed.

Her strong hand wrapped around the back of his neck, supporting him, keeping him still as her right hand pressed the cool blade onto his skin. He fought the urge to shiver, focusing on her heat instead, on her citric scent that enveloped him. It was a heady brew of warmth and smell, easily intoxicating him once again on _her_.

She hummed softly in a tune he didn’t recognize, as she pulled the wicked sharp knife across his tender skin. Her fingers pressed down on him firmly yet gently, attentive of his comfort and safety. Soon she fell into an easy rhythm of twitch of her wrist, matched to the slow song she hummed. Light _shhk_ noise accompanied every pull of the blade, and a _plop_ as she washed the knife in the heated water. Cullen felt the tender grasp of drowsiness inching over him as he entrusted himself fully over to her. The lull of her voice swept away the hunger for blue relief far, far away.

All too quickly, Solona finished shaving him. She dipped the blade into the basin one last time, washing away the lather and hair, and wiped it on the wet towel before placing it back in the hilt on her wrist. Then using another hot towel, she patted down his chin.

“Still alive?” She giggled as the warm water glided down his bare skin, leaving thin trails of droplets all the way down to his chest.

“Mmm.” He grunted, his body too relaxed to form words, his mind but a few paces away from dreamless sleep.

“You’re not bleeding, which is a good sign. And I don’t see any cuts.” She leaned down, inspecting his face with a critical eye. He pried his own lids apart to drink in the sight of her.

“But just in case… it couldn’t hurt.” She murmured to herself, once again framing his face between her two small hands. He could see the blue-green glow from her hands from the corner of his eyes.

“Healing spell for any miniscule cuts I may have made. You’d be far too polite to admit I cut you after all.” She talked, filling the room with her musical voice. “And the warmth should help you against burns.”

“I’m not a delicate flower. You needn’t worry so much.” He slurred out, his tongue heavy in his mouth. Solona just rolled her eyes, copying him from earlier. Once she was done, Solona toweled his chest dry.

Soon, the bowls and towels were floating back towards the pile of barrels in the corner, and she carried his folded cloak and gloves over to the armor stand and neatly draped it over the top.

“Where do you keep your shirts?” She called out, looking back over. He considered getting it himself, but soon discarded the thought.

“In the chest over there.”

“You mean this small wooden crate next to the broken heaps of planks?” She arched her brows at him.

“It’s a _chest_.” He emphasized.

Shaking her head, Solona soon began pawing through the rubble – chest, he corrected himself – until she dragged out a laundered long sleeve shirt.

“You have at least five identical shirts.” She remarked dryly as she passed the white fabric over to him.

“It’s meant to go underneath the armor. Nobody’s actually going to see it.” He shrugged as he pulled the shirt on.

“It’s a miracle you don’t wear your armor to bed. Or do you?”

“Not most of the time.” He muttered. Choosing to ignore that last comment, she settled herself down next to him on the bed. He turned slightly to face her as she took his right hand in hers, glowing gently. Cullen could _feel_ her magic seeping into his skin, soaking him in the soothing, cool relief. He felt stronger, as strong as he’d been before he stopped taking lyrium. Her presence within him climbed up from his hand, gently engulfing him.

“Now, I’m ready to talk.” She mumbled, avoiding his gaze. But she didn’t let go of his hand. Instead, she pressed small tight circles into it, massaging the soreness there away.

“Solona…” He breathed, tilting her head up with his free hand. She didn’t resist his touch, though her eyes were cloudy, uncertain. Feelings he knew would be reflected in his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, letting the words finally tumble out. “It was wrong for me to behave so brazenly… It was not my intention to cause problems for you. You have my sincerest apology.”

“I’d thought, that after… the um… tower… and the stuff…” She blushed furiously, as she fumbled with the words. “I thought that you wouldn’t… that you couldn’t… that is, with me.”

“For a while, yes.” He admitted. “After… well, afterwards, I thought I couldn’t. I’d just witnessed the worst mages had to offer. I was… not myself after that. I was angry.”

He stroked her hair, looking down into her wide eyes. Her smooth hair was silky to his touch, calming him. “Sometimes, I still see the horns on your head. Claws instead of fingers. But your magic… the demons never could imitate your magic. It helps. I know it’s you. I’ll always know you.” He closed his eyes as he fully admitted his shame. He didn’t want to see the disgust in her eyes, though it was what he deserved.

“Cullen,” she called his name softly, but he didn’t stir. He couldn’t. How could he? After telling her he saw her as a demon?

“Cullen,” she called louder, insistent. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes again to face the revulsion he was sure to find. But he found only a sad and understanding smile.

“Do you regret it?” She asked. Confused, he stared.

“The kiss. Do you regret it? In the tower, you told me… well, you shouted out to the Maker that you were ashamed of your feelings for me. Are you still ashamed?”

Cullen grimaced as the memories of his wild ravings came back unbidden. He’d truly been in a sorry state then. He could almost feel the sticky blood of his friends crusted over his hands, the smell the rotting corpses invading his senses. He could almost _taste_ the humiliation and shame of his failure as a Templar that had overwhelmed him ten long years ago.

But her eyes were trained onto him, her dark captivating eyes that he found himself being pulled into. Focusing on her, he breathed. She kept him grounded. She kept him from falling back into his nightmares.

“I was ashamed, because I did not see.” He spoke slowly through gritted teeth. He needed to tell her. He needed her to understand. But the words hurt him, tearing the old wounds wide open. Solona did not hurry him, recognizing the old bloody wound in his soul.

“For years, my anger blinded me. As a Templar, I thought I was failing my duties. I thought it was a sin to harbor feelings for a mage. I’m not proud of the man that anger shaped me into. I devoted myself over to the Templar Order. Knowing that I yearned for you disgusted me. Or I tried to feel disgusted by it. The thought of that _sickens_ me now.

But I know now that there is nothing wrong, nothing shameful about loving someone. Whether or not you are a mage has nothing to do with it. It’s not that I love you despite the fact that you’re a mage, nor do I love you because you’re a mage. I love you, because of you. I love you for the endless compassion you have. I love you, because your smile makes my heart beat. I am proud to have held onto my affections for you. I am proud that it won over my irrational anger and hatred. I am proud, that despite all the resentment I nursed, my fondness for you grew into love. I am eternally grateful to the Maker for the chance he has given me to meet you.

I regret my actions in the training yard because it was thoughtless and possibly damaging for you. I do not know if it has affected your relationship with Zevran, or if you’ve had any trouble with the Wardens because of me, and that is what I regret, what I’m ashamed of, and what I am apologizing for. You did not want it, but I forced it upon you. It was barbaric of me to do so.

But I’ve wanted to kiss you for the past decade. Far longer than I should admit, but you already know that. I’ve longed for your touch, and the kiss was everything I’d dreamed of. Forgive me, but no, I do not regret it. Rather, I will treasure my memory of it.”

Slowly, she smiled. She smiled that brilliant smile which left him dazzled, which left his heart _pounding_ in his chest.

“I wanted to kiss you too. Since I was an apprentice.” She giggled softly, her cheeks painted red. “You probably already know, but I love you too. The kiss, it was a surprise, to be sure, but I… liked it. So I’m glad you’re not apologizing for the kiss.”

Cullen sat stunned, as Solona uttered the words he’d never expected to hear in his lifetime. If his mouth was left hanging open, he didn’t know it, because his mind was too busy trying to comprehend the words Solona had spoken.

“Cullen?” She looked worried, as he stayed mute.

“Maker’s breath, Cullen! Don’t tell me I broke you! The Inquisitor hates me enough already!” She squeezed his hand, concern and alarm growing in her eyes.

“But…” he finally gasped, confused. It wasn’t _possible_ , was it? Even after… even after that shameful display? Even after all those terrible words he’d spat at her? Those unkind, untoward things he’d rambled off in his sorry state? She’d seen him _at his absolute worst!_

“Cullen? Cullen! Focus on me. Talk to me.”

“Even after…?” He asked, the words rushing past his lips before he could clamp down on them.

“Even after… what? Even after watching how you’ve overcome one of the most harrowing experiences that would have left others bitter and crippled? Of course I love you, you… you… oh sod it! When will you understand that you’re a good man? An incredible man, with untold strength and… and… and now you’re making me say ridiculous things!” Solona finally did let go of his hand, burying her face down into her arms instead. Her dark mane fell around her shoulders, creating a wavy curtain.

“Solona…?” He raised his hand, hesitant, wondering if she’d be offended if he touched her.

“You bloody frustrating miserable blighted wretch!” She cursed into herself, before raising her head again. She was flushed red, her gaze burning hot as she pinned him with her eyes.

“Fighting my way through Kinloch Hold, through blood mages, demons, possessed templars, and abominations that were once my friends, my family, all I could think about was you. You! I checked every sodding corpse wearing a templar armor in that tower as I fought through that hell. When I found you, you have no idea of the relief I felt! I thought I was going to faint when I saw that you were alive!

Then after the Blight, I watched you. For ten years, I watched you. I’ve kept tabs on you while you were in the Greenfell Chantry, and visited the Gallows at Kirkwall as often as I was able to. I saw the anger that burned inside of you, and dared not to approach, but I kept watch. I knew – thought – that you didn’t have any affections left for me, and I had no cause to remind you of the tortures you were forced to endure through my presence. So I kept my distance. But not once did I forget you.

Your strength, your faith, your survival kept me going. Thinking of you, of what you had to endure, and how you overcame those impossible hurdles strengthened me, challenged me. Even blinded by anger, as you described, you tried to do what’s right for the mages. You could have hated them all, but you protected the ones that needed protecting. Watching you, I could remember that there was something good in this world, something worth fighting for. Your integrity and strength allowed me to achieve what no others could. I owe you my life just as much as you owe me yours.

So trust me, when I say, that you are a marvelous man that deserves nothing less than the best this world has to offer. Cullen, I love you, and I thank the Maker for meeting you. You will always have my love, and my support. Do not ever doubt that.”

Cullen thought he forgot how to breathe for a moment.

“You deserve only the best, Cullen.” Solona sighed, her hands once again gentle over his. “But I’m not the best.” Her eyes softened, impossibly sad.

“Is it because of Zevran?” Cullen asked quietly. He’d never expected her to be his, not in his wildest dreams. Her admission of love was more than enough for him, he told himself.

“Although I am involved with Zevran… no, this is not about him. Cullen, I’m a Grey Warden. The taint of the Blight flows within my blood. I’m sworn against the _Blight_. I will never be able to give you a child. I will never be able to marry you. I will have to walk the Deep Roads in a decade’s time to meet my death by the hands of darkspawn. Is that truly what you want?”

Cullen stayed mute, as she so easily stole the power of speech from him as always.

“And you’re right. I love you, but I love Zevran too. And Alistair. I could never ask you to understand that. And I could never stop loving them, just as I could never stop loving you. But you deserve someone who will devote their life to you. A beautiful woman that will gladly give you her hand in marriage, and exchange rings. A woman that can, and will, grow heavy with your child. You deserve someone who can make you _happy_. And as much as I wish that woman was me, I’m not. All I can offer you is sadness, death, and the unrelenting grim Warden secrets I must keep. I’m not worth it, Cullen.”

A single tear rolled down her smooth skin, unnoticed by her. “I’m not worth it.” Solona whispered.

 _But you are_. Cullen wanted to shout, to scream at her. _You are worth any price I must pay!_

But his traitorous mouth stayed shut, his throat too constricted for those vital words to flow. His heart drummed heavily in his chest, wishing, praying that his blighted lips would open, so he could tell her, she was worth more than anything in Thedas. But his treacherous body failed him. He couldn’t utter one word to her. All he could do, was to wipe away the tear she shed for him.

Solona leaned in slowly, her citric scent enveloping them both. Cullen felt himself dissolving in her dark eyes, bright, too bright with unshed tears. His hand came up to her hair unbidden, tangling themselves in her thick, silky black mane. His fingertips lightly grazed against her temples, rubbing small circles into the nape of her neck. And then, she was brushing her lips across his.

It was nothing like their first kiss. That had been a mindless, forceful sensation he’d foolishly snatched from her in her unguarded moment. This time, she gave it to him freely, willingly. Her soft, hot rosy lips trailed around his lips, leaving feather-light kisses on the very edges of his mouth, until she reached his scar. There, she kissed, licked, and nipped tenderly, until he groaned with pleasure. Unable to hold back any longer, he drew her into his arms. She fit so perfectly in his embrace, with her straddling him once again. He nibbled on her lips – drinking in the sight of her, tasting her honey sweet mouth slowly, _thoroughly_.

As she sighed and moaned, he plunged his tongue inside her. His tongue ran over her teeth, drawing a shuddering gasp from the exquisite creature, before the feel of her mouth on his drove him to madness. Tangling his hands in her hair, Cullen _devoured_ her. His teeth bit into her lips, his tongue licking, sucking every inch of her delicious lips. But Solona met him with equal passion, her nails digging into his back, her heat leaving _burning_ traces on his skin. Her own tongue caressed his scar, and she claimed his mouth. In that moment, he was wholly, _truly_ , hers.

And then, it was over. She broke the kiss once his body couldn’t take it any longer, when the heat burned and his lungs ached for a breath. He gasped and panted, as she did, their foreheads touching, their eyes closed. For what seemed like an eternity, they sat and breathed together, until the blazing fire calmed to a quiet simmer.

It was Solona who spoke first.

“Good night, Cullen.” She murmured, her magic soon following her words. Then he fell into dreamless slumber.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Version. Here is the [link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4163601/chapters/27441195) for the remastered Second Chance for Him story.

“I’m so sorry.” She whispered, a quiet murmur barely audible even in deafening silence brought on by the midday sun beating down onto the world. “It was selfish of me to kiss you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He shifted, not a whisper of sound betraying his presence.

“I had to. Forgive me, but I had to. I can’t remember if I kissed you back. I just can’t recall if I did or not at the sparring match! I couldn’t let that be our last kiss. I’m sorry. I just can’t let our first kiss, be our last. I wanted to take it with me. It’s a precious piece of you I’ll treasure. I’m so sorry. I know it was a cruel thing to do, but I want to _remember_.” She cried, muffled by his tanned skin pressed up against her lips.

He started to feel out a steady footing for himself, intending to climb down from the roof now.

“Zev,” she called to him, her voice soft. He stiffened for a moment, then chuckled. Of course she knew he was here. Smoothly, Zevran jumped through the hole, and landed lightly on his feet like a cat. Facing her, he straightened up and grinned, once again pleasantly astounded at his own skills.

“Ah, my dear Warden.” He purred, stalking up to his love on Cullen’s bed, with the strapping Commander sprawled out over it. “Did you enjoy his company? You did avoid him for days after all.”

“How much did you hear?” She looked at him, her eyes wide and bright with unshed tears.

“Mi amor, you already know the answer to that question, yes?” Zevran cocked his head, fixing his gaze onto the man sleeping deeply in the bed. His Warden was pulling the sheets over him and putting the pillows under his head to make him comfortable. He waited rather patiently until she finished settling the man in.

“Did he hurt you?” Zevran growled, losing the teasing tone he usually adopted. Wrestling against the boiling anger threatening to spill over, he gently grabbed her hands with his own and turned her palms around. He peeled back her long sleeves to inspect her wrists, looking for telltale signs of black and purple bruises. It had taken all of his restraint, all of his carefully honed self-control he’s cultivated over the years not to interrupt, his wrath flaring violently while he watched Cullen roughly pin his Warden against the desk.

“No, he didn’t.” She breathed, showing him her pale creamy wrists, and he bent down. Bringing her exposed inner wrist to his lips, Zevran pressed feather-light kisses onto her velvety skin, knowing his warm breath would tickle pleasantly over her pulse. “You could see us too?”

“The man’s got a hole in his floor, as well as his roof.” He grinned, indicating towards the pile of wood planks in the corner of the room with a light tilt of his chin, where he was crouching earlier.

“Thank you for not interrupting us, Zev.”

“Anything for you, my dear Warden.” He murmured into her skin, relishing the delicate feel below his lips.

“Did you send word to Rylen?”

“Of course. I sent Barkspawn along with a message as you hinted.” He shrugged, straightening up. But he held onto her hand as she sat gazing at the blonde man in the bed.

“You put him to sleep with magic.” He remarked, watching his chest rise and fall evenly.

“He needed to rest.” She replied absentmindedly, her fingers stroking and rubbing Zevran’s hand. “He will not dream tonight.”

“Will he remember the remarkable feat of shouting at the woman who’s saved the world? I, for one, have thoroughly enjoyed the scene. Very dramatic. Or what about the second kiss he’s been lucky enough receive from the said woman?”

“I don’t know.” She sighed, looking up at Zevran tiredly. “If he’s lucky, he won’t remember.”

“My dear Warden. You did not give him a choice.” Zevran spoke softly, gently turning her head towards him to meet her eyes.

“There is no choice to be made, Zev!” Solona stood abruptly, striding away from the bed and himself quickly.

“He’s the sort that would never break his vows.” She paced, agitation overcoming her usual serene composure. She kicked up a thin layer of dust that’s gathered in Cullen’s unused room, sparkling in the brilliant sunlight. “He’s suffered enough. He’s _suffering_ , even now. Because of me. _Me!_ ”

She whirled around, her eyes moist, too bright. A warm droplet glided down her angled cheeks, leaving a sad little trail behind. “I just want to ease his burdens a little. This world has been so cruel to him. _Is_ so cruel to him. He’s suffering so much! He’s in so much pain. The pain he’s in right now can literally drive him insane, or even _kill_ him! Is it so wrong to hope he’d get some respite? After all these years, after all that the world has put him through, is that really so much to ask for? For a small break from all this misery? He deserves so much better! He deserves so much better than _this!_ ”

His Warden gestured wildly, fire sparks flying off her twitching fingers. Her voice rocketed through several pitches, ringing loudly against the crumbling walls as her voice rose to a booming thunder, filled with frustrations and despair. But Cullen kept on breathing evenly, her magic keeping him deep under, where no cries could reach him.

“Ah, but are you certain? Cullen might have chosen you, mi amor. You are rather quite fetching after all. And his duties seem so dull compared to the excitement you bring about.”

“No!” She screamed, then immediately quieted. “No.” She whispered again, her eyes suddenly flooded with fears, and Zevran quickly crossed the room to reach her. But she waved him off, pacing wildly before standing still, tapping her foot.

“No.” She muttered to herself, the fire and lightning sparks growing stronger, arching off wilder. She started pacing again, only to stop, then her eyes settled on Cullen’s armor stand. She immediately stomped over, pulling the heavy armor off of the stand she’d so neatly piled up before, and sat down on the floor.

“My Warden?”

“I’m polishing his armor.” She announced, grabbing a small cloth and oil nearby the armor stand.

“I can see that.” He sighed, plopping down in front of her.

“I am polishing his armor. I will polish his armor, because I will not be setting his room on fire. Polishing his armor will distract me.” She muttered, her hands automatically rubbing the cloth over the hard metal. But he wasn’t going to let this go. Keeping his voice level, Zevran spoke again.

“Mi amor, you took his choice away.”

Her hand twitched, but otherwise kept on working.

“He could have chosen you.”

“No.” She whispered, without meeting his eyes. “He can’t.”

“My Warden, he loves you.”

But she kept her eyes fixed on the shining metal, her face hardened into a mask.

“So what? I won’t add to his hurt. I can’t, and I won’t. I refuse. I won’t tie him down with me. I am the pain in his past, the reminder of all that this world’s done to him. The demons, the magic, the torture, it’s all reflected in me. I won’t force him to deal with me in his future as well.”

She scrubbed harder at the armor.

“I am a Grey Warden. I will walk the Deep Roads sooner or later. I have you and Alistair. I can’t ask him to sacrifice his future for me. I have no future. He does! He deserves, no Cullen is _owed_ a future where he can be happy. This fucking world owes him happiness. _I will not take that away from him!_ ”

She finally raised her eyes from the armor, looking at Zevran. Her eyes were wild, hurting.

“And you. You have a future too. Alistair and I are bound by the taint in our blood. But you are free. You don’t have to be shackled by the Fate. You can be free from _me_. Zev, say the word, and I will release you from your Oath. This world owes you someone better than me.”

He stared at her, wondering if the words he heard had actually been spoken. Could she have truly suggested that something better than her could exist for him?

“My Warden.” He hissed out, his heated gaze boring into her. He could feel his face twisting in anger, his lips curling in distaste at the very _thought_ of leaving her.

“I know the cost of staying by your side.” He spit, “You do not need to remind me. I am well aware of the death looming over you. The hateful Calling that will consume you.”

She did not look away, or even blink as he spoke of the poison that flowed within her. She cried silently, tears cascading down her face, but she met his gaze squarely.

“But it does not matter. I have once told you that I would storm the Black City itself for a chance to stand by your side. _That still stands_. The _sacrifice_ , as you said, that I make for being with you is worth it. For even a second of your time, even a single smile that graces your face is worth my very soul. Do not doubt it.”

She was quiet for a long time, sharing his gaze in silence. Eventually, she nodded, accepting the truth. Sighing inwardly in relief, Zevran stood back up. She followed suit, putting the polished armor back on the stand.

“Now, shall we move onto the mind-blowingly awesome sex now that that’s out of the way?” He grinned at his beautiful Warden, and to his delight she finally laughed.

“After work, Zev.” She laughed, striding towards the ladder. “After work, definitely.”

 

*******

 

Candles illuminated Cullen’s dark office, filling the room with wavering orange glow. Solona stood at her desk, squinting in the weak light. She was in Cullen’s office with the Warden officers, making his barren office more crowded than usual, issuing out the last orders before the Winter Ball. A group of Inquisition officers was clustered around Cullen’s desk, most likely doing the same thing. She looked over at her Ferelden Commander.

“Nathaniel, you can stay here and rest. Enjoy the time off I’m giving you.” Solona waved vaguely at him, who only snorted.

“I do not like sitting around on my ass, doing nothing.” He crossed his arms, looking disgruntled.

“Yes, yes, I know. You can help out Warden Stroud in commanding the Wardens that are to remain here.”

“Fine. Just you watch, you’ll come crying to me later, regretting this.” Nathaniel grumbled.

Glancing quickly over to Cullen’s table, she lowered voice.

“Nathaniel, make sure Clarel and Anders doesn’t even breathe without thinking about the consequences while I’m gone. Am I clear? I want them under guard the entire time.” She clenched her teeth, familiar anger rising within her. There simply wasn’t time to deal with them before the Ball.

“Yes, ser.”

“Tell them that I do not want to come back to a demon infested Skyhold, or a mage-templar war within the Inquisition, or whatever else grisly disasters they can possibly think of!” She paused, struggling to control her temper. With Nathaniel’s promise to watch over them, she shifted her attention with effort.

“Warden Stroud, you are to take charge of the Wardens in my absence.

“Me?” Stroud couldn’t quite hide the shock from his voice, and Tanner coughed loudly, attempting to hide his snickers. Oghren and Nathaniel didn’t bother, chuckling heartily at the surprise etched into the man’s face.

“Yes, Stroud, you.” Shooting an aggravated look at her other Wardens, Solona nodded.

“As of this moment, Warden Stroud, I am officially promoting you to the Warden-Constable of the Orlesian Grey Wardens. You stood uncorrupted during the time of trial at Adamant, and I entrust you the surviving Orlesian Wardens. Make me proud, Warden-Constable.”

He stood looking stunned, and Oghren nudged him. “This is when you say something nice, boy.”

“I… I do not know if I’m worthy.” Stroud stammered out, clearly confused. But then he straightened up, resolve burning in his eyes. “But I will not fail you, my lady.”

She nodded, satisfied. This man was trustworthy. While she was gone, Stroud could learn much from her friend Nathaniel in matters of command.

“The hundred Wardens are ready for the march at first light tomorrow?”

“Yes, General. Fifty Ferelden and fifty Orlesian Wardens as you ordered.” Tanner quipped, smiling.

“Oghren, you really don’t want to come along?” She looked at her burly friend, who took a long drink from his flask.

“Ha! And stuff myself into fancy Orlesian pants? That’d ride up something fierce. I’m good, boss. I’ll get the Wardens here whipped into shape.”

“Fine. That will be all, regarding the Ball.” The Wardens let out a collective sigh, relieved to be free. She smiled ruefully, feeling the heavy armor pressing down on her shoulders. It had been a long day.

“Before you go, one last thing. Food finally arrived from Amaranthine. We don’t have to starve ourselves anymore. Let every Warden know.” She watched amused as her men whooped, crying out in joy. It drew several confused glances from the Inquisition soldiers by Cullen’s desk, but frankly none of them cared. They’d all been forced to limit themselves to few servings per meal, trying desperately to stop themselves from emptying out the Skyhold’s larder.

“Finally! It’s been too long since a decent meal.” Nathaniel smiled, and Solona couldn’t help but laugh too.

“Truly. Any longer and I would’ve been drooling at Barkspawn.”

Barkspawn whined, looking horrified at her joke. It only made her men laugh even harder.

Nodding, Solona waved for her Wardens to get out. “Get lost, you stinky asses. It’s late – get some food and sleep.” She watched them file out one by one, and slumped over her table. Barkspawn came and nudged against her leg.

“You know I’d never eat you, right?” She scratched behind his ears, as he gave her a disapproving glance. But Barkspawn didn’t seem ready to forgive her just yet. Laughing, she pulled out the special treats from earlier that day, dangling it.

“A trade? For your forgiveness?”

Barkspawn cocked his head, considering, and Solona brought the treat closer to his nose.

“Are you trying to bribe your dog, my Warden? You know an honorable good dog like him wouldn’t take a bribe.” Zevran chuckled behind her, and she quickly shushed him.

“Hush. Barkspawn is a smart boy. He’d take the bribe. Won’t you, good dog? Won’t you smart boy? It’s a good trade.”

Barking happily, her dog snatched up the treat in her hand. He devoured it quickly, and winked.

“He’s a smart boy.” She laughed, pulling out another treat. “He’s the smartest dog in the world.”


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Version. Here is the [link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4163601/chapters/27441195) for the remastered Second Chance for Him story.

Cullen woke slowly, the cool gentle breeze blowing through his roof ruffling his hair. Even without opening his eyes, he knew he’d slept for a long time. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so relaxed, so unstrung. It’d been _months_. There was no lyrium shrieking in his blood, no constant throbbing pressure building up in his head. Cullen rolled over to his side, wondering if he could get away with simply staying exactly where he was _,_ relishing the fact that he _wasn’t in pain._ But it wasn’t long before the world pressed into his mind, nagging insistently at him. Sighing, he raised himself up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He looked up through his broken ceiling to judge the time. The sky was still dark with stars still shining brightly in heaven, but reddish light was hinting at the far edge of the horizon. About an hour before dawn, he surmised.

Groaning, he stood and stretched. He was usually armed and ready long before. As it was, he was probably running late for the first inspection of the day. After quickly washing himself, Cullen walked over to his armor stand, automatically pulling on his armor before he paused.

There was an unusual glint held in his silverite armor, catching his eyes. It was glimmering, practically _glowing_ in the dim light. He frowned, trying to remember exactly why his armor would be shining so brightly as he finished strapping it on. But his memory was hazy at best, despite his efforts to recall the previous night. He could feel his mind crawling at a sluggish pace, and sighed. The thrumming headache had finally let up – but in its place remained a tired brain, insistent on not working. Rubbing hard at his eyes, he willed himself to wake up. He ambled back towards his bed, trying to mentally recount the events last night when his eyes settled on the bowls and towels neatly laid out over the empty barrels in the far corner of his room.

His memories surged back, stopping him dead in his tracks. The feel of her lips, the sigh of her breath was warm on his face once more. His skin remembered the way her heated hands gently held his chin, and the _swish swash_ sounds of her blade scraping across his skin resounded in his ears. His body recalled the way it pressed up against hers by the table all too vividly, and his throat felt raw from the way he’d shouted at her. His heart thrummed at the whispered confessions they shared in his bed, and his blood tingled at the lingering traces of her magic in his room.

Cullen rubbed his chin, and to his dismay felt no stubble that usually scratched against his gloved hand. Solona truly had shaved him yesterday then. The entire exchange wasn’t something his fevered mind has conjured up. Which meant the words spoken between them were real as well.

He stumbled, dropping heavily onto his bed. No wonder he couldn’t remember anything from last night. It was well before midday when Solona had barged into his office. Putting his head in his hands, Cullen let out a low groan. He’d neglected his duty as the Commander – and placed Solona in a compromising situation by confessing his love for her, _again_.

What was he doing? He was supposed to be _working_. The Inquisition was a second chance for him – a chance to redeem himself. A chance to atone for all the havoc he’s wreaked in Kirkwall. Did he truly spend the day before _sleeping?_

He dragged his head up from his hands, staring unseeingly. He supposed that at the very least the day hadn’t been a complete waste – Cullen finally apologized to her. But to think that he slept through the entire day and through the night… and to make the matters worse, they were set to march for Halamshiral today.

Cullen froze.

They were supposed to march for Halamshiral in a few hours.

Cursing at his own idiocy, Cullen leapt off of his bed and raced towards his ladder. _Maker’s breath_ , he’d been in middle of selecting who would accompany the Inquisitor to the Winter Palace when the lyrium started to sing its song. He would have finished it days ago if he hadn’t so thoroughly been distracted by Solona and lyrium. Cullen rushed down the ladder, jumping the last third of the rungs and landing loudly with a thud.

“Good morning, Cullen. Slept well?”

Her unexpected voice rang out loud and clear, and he swiveled around to find Solona sitting at her desk in the corner. She was armed and armored to the teeth, looking every inch as fierce and intimidating as the tales painted her to be. Her spiked gauntlets reflected the wavering orange candle lights, making her look somewhat surreal in his office. Her hair was pulled back into a thick bun held in place with sharpened metal hair sticks, well out of the way of her new griffon staff.

He recognized the heavy mantle of General she wore, her steely gaze burying the caring woman from last night somewhere deep. Preparing for the march to Halamshiral, he assumed. But she still graced him with a genuine smile while her sharp eyes swept over him quickly, searching for signs of pain or fatigue. “You seem very energetic, at least.”

“Solona.” He stood uncertainly, painfully aware of her. He had so much work to do, so much explaining to do to his officers as to why he hasn’t given out their assignments yet – and so many questions regarding the day before – regarding _them_ – at the tip of his tongue that he didn't know where to start. But Solona simply waved her hand towards his desk.

“I ordered Jim to get some breakfast and tea for you. Figured you’d wake up just about now.” He looked over to see that there indeed was a tray full of food and a cup of tea still steaming hot. But he didn’t move, thousand thoughts swirling through his mind.

“Eat.” She stood up, pointing at the tray. He sighed, relenting, and stepped towards his desk and picked up a warm bread. Solona followed suit, coming to stand next him. She lightly laid her hand on his arm, pushing gently to turn him towards her.

“I… I have work to do.” He started, averting his eyes. “I need to finish putting together the list of soldiers marching today. I should have finished it days ago.”

Cullen couldn’t do this – not right now. There were urgent matters that needed his attention. He’d just woken up – he needed more time before speaking to her about _them_. He didn’t know if he would ever be ready for this.

He mentally donned the mantle of Commander, like an armor. It was a silent rejection against her soft, gentle touch, a quiet rebuff. He will not be Cullen around her. He will be the Commander.

She blinked, surprise flitting across her wide eyes, and Cullen imagined seeing tiny bit of hurt too. But her face was set in hard stone, her mask of First Warden resting firmly over her features just as he wore his. Solona simply dropped her hand from his arm, and handed him a stack of reports.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve went ahead and put together a list for you – you needed the break. All you have to do is sign it before passing it on to Barris. Or you could probably draft a new list right now, using that one as reference. The second stack is a roster and guard rotation schedule for remaining personnel within Skyhold, covering for the missing chunk that’ll be at the Winter Palace.”

He received the thick stack of paper from her, surprised.

“Thank you.” He muttered, scanning through the list quickly. He was… impressed. The list of names she’d put together was very well thought out, selecting almost exactly everyone whom he’d been planning take from the start. He hadn’t realized she already had such an excellent grasp of the personnel his force was made up of.

“You wish to bring Jean-Gaspard?” Cullen looked up to her.

“I understand that he was an Orlesian chevalier, same as the Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons? If I recall correctly, the Grand Duke was the one to slay Jean-Gaspard’s brother Duke Remache. The Inquisition would do well to rely upon his particular experience.”

Cullen nodded, bending over to sign it. “I concur. I’ll pass this over to Rylen immediately.”

“Excellent!” She smiled, passing him a cup of hot tea. It was the same herbal tea from day before.

“You must have been up all night.” He murmured. She must have pored over the reports and Inquisition personnel files for hours to have even found Jean-Gaspard among his many officers.

“I’ll sleep in the saddle.” She turned, moving to walk out of his office. “I must tend to my own Wardens, Commander. I shall see you when we are ready to march.”

“Solona!” He blurted out.

She stopped, cocking her head at him.

He paused, not knowing what he wanted to say. What was there to be said? What could he possibly say? To her, who was… who was… What was she to him? A stranger? No, definitely not a stranger. They were bonded to each other since their youth – with him watching over her day and night, with her smiling softly at him whenever their eyes met.

They were not lovers. He may love her – and she may even feel the same, but they were not lovers. He could never stay by her side the way Zevran did. It did not matter that he loved her. It did not matter that she loved him. Being involved with her was one thing he always knew he could never have. She would _never_ be his. Too many oaths ensnared them. Their kiss last night was a dream they’d stole in a quick moment when reality weakened enough for them to forget themselves. It was everything he’d hoped for, and yet nothing that could ever be repeated in this lifetime. Simply knowing that she also felt the same for him was more than enough. It would have to be enough.

Then what were they? Colleagues? Looking to the woman still waiting patiently for him to speak, Cullen knew that term was wrong too. It was too detached, too… professional for what they’ve shared, what they’ve survived together.

She still waited, her eyes dark, her face carefully blank.

Then how about… friends? Could they be friends? Could such a simple word really describe what they were? Could it cover the past decade he’d spent dreaming of her? Could it aptly show the love he wished to adore her with, and yet didn’t? Could _friends_ really convey the enormous patience and understanding she lavished him with?

Yes, he told himself. Yes it could. He could stay with her as a friend, unlike Zevran and Alistair. He wouldn’t have to worry about such connections as a friend. Friends could work together. Friends could greet one another without feeling the need to run the opposite direction. Friends could laugh and cry together, share their troubles, confess their darkest secrets without fear of judgement. Being friends would bypass every hurdle she’s labeled yesterday. They could be friends.

Cullen strode over to her, and stuck his arm out for her. “Friends?”

Solona stood still for a moment, her dark eyes never betraying her thoughts. His heart beat heavy in his chest, once, twice. Silence stretched out between them, time slowing to a crawl, as he waited for her to either accept or deny the new bond he suggested between them. His eyes never left hers, waiting until she grasped his outstretched hand firmly.

“Friends.” She shook his hand with a faintest smile, and left.

* * *

Mira rode behind her Commander, watching him sway in time with his mare’s each step. He rode near the front of the long procession, with Sister Leliana, Zevran, and the Hero. Mira rode with her fellow officers and the Warden officers, following close behind. The march to the Halamshiral was expected to take five days. A lone rider could easily make it there in day or two – but traveling at a leisurely pace of Inquisitor’s carriage lengthened the march. Thankfully, three days have already passed so far without any incidents other than a few drunk brawls. Lady Ambassador, lady Vivienne, and the Inquisitor rode inside a carriage for the most part, and for the first time in months, the Commander wasn’t bothered by long parade of messengers, or mountain-load of paperwork, or by the Inquisitor’s constant prattles. Rylen was handling all Inquisition matters at Skyhold during their absence, which left the Commander with no matters that required his attention other than making sure his men walked on the road without falling behind. A simple enough task that she and Barris could handle.

The Commander’s been pushing himself to the brink of exhaustion since the Haven, his features growing rugged under the strain he forced himself through with each passing day. Mira was glad to see him finally rest for once, a sentiment shared by her fellow officers.

“Ser, another correspondence for you.” Warden Tanner rode up to the Hero, passing her for the fifth time that morning with batch of letters. She watched as the Commander quirked his eyebrows at the Hero – six crows were fluttering about her head, ready to fly off the moment she finished writing her responses. Unlike her Commander, the Hero has been constantly working since they left the Skyhold.

“Isn’t Stroud and Nathaniel taking care of Warden matters for you?” Commander finally asked, crooked smile dancing at his lips. The wind carried his low voice towards the officers, allowing them to overhear most of the words.

“I spent the past decade on a horseback, Commander. I learned how to run my army while traveling very quickly.”

“I see.” He shrugged.

“May I suggest that you go do something fun while you have some free time, Commander? I do hope you’ve heard of it before. You do know that people do fun things?” The Hero teased lightly, her quill flowing across the vellum.

“Of course.” He snorted. They fell into light-hearted bickering, with Sister Leliana and the assassin chiming in once in a while with easy laughter.

“What do you think?” Mira leaned in close to Barris, tilting her head in their direction.

“What?”

“The Commander and the Hero. Don't you think they're acting weird?”

Barris considered a moment before shrugging.

“They are. They've certainly been acting strange ever since leaving Skyhold.” They both turned around to see Warden Tanner who’d urged his horse closer to them.

“They're talking to each other. It's better than before.” Barris sighed, but Mira shook her head.

“Yeah, but now they're being so… _friendly_.”

“And what's wrong with ‘friendly’?” Jean-Gaspard quipped, looking bored.

Mira gave him the _are-you-serious_ stare.

“There's no way they're friends. They can’t be friends. Just three days ago, my General wouldn't have been caught dead in the same room as your Commander. But now they're bantering? Exchanging stories, drinks, sharing campfires? I don't buy it.” Warden Bert snorted, stealing a quick glance at the commanding officers.

“Aye, those two ‘ere meant to be. Maker’s made ‘em fer each other. The best mage Ferelden’s e’er seen, and the best templar Order’s e’er made, in luv since their trainings. No ‘ther pairs been more perfect.”

“It is… somewhat unsettling to watch them so relaxed.” Barris admitted quietly.

“Frankly anybody with half a brain would have known they had feelings each other after one look. But now such thoughts seem completely foolish. They're genuinely being friends.” Lysette murmured, also looking towards the front of the group.

“Maybe they’ve _finally_ done the deed. The good old dip and stir? I was sick of watching those two dance around each other.” Warden Bert chuckled, though Mia and Lysette made face. The image of their commanding officer romping about naked was something they did _not_ need in their heads, no matter how pretty he was to look at. _Especially_ because he was so pretty to look at.

“Would explain why his mood’s improved since the sparring incident.” Jim muttered quietly.

“No, I don’t think so. I mean look at them, they’re being… _friends_. That’s not how you act after good sex.” Tanner stared thoughtfully.

“And how do you know it’d be good sex?” Jean-Gaspard looked over curiously, and Tanner and Bert both started laughing.

“Because she’s a Warden, good ser! Have you not heard of our legendary stamina? It’s not exaggerated.” Tanner wheezed out.

“Also, we’ve all seen that ‘sparring’ session. No way they didn’t have a good time.” Mattrin grumbled out, met with chorus of murmured assent.

“But I don’t think they did the deed.” Mira turned to look at yet another voice that joined the group, finding one of Sister Leliana’s people looking thoughtful. Pellane, she thought his name was.

“I mean it just feels wrong. They’re just so… friendly.” Pellane scowled at the last word.

“You’re right. That’s just wrong.” The Champion’s voice startled everyone, as the mage simply grimaced at the two commanders ahead. “Curly and my cousin being friendly? That’s just _wrong_.”

“Disgusting. Simply, disgusting.” The Tevinter shook his head.

“Maybe the Commander gave up on his feelings for her. She _is_ a living legend, and has her assassin.” Tanner suggested, earning couple protests from the Inquisition’s side.

“Laid the old yearnings to rest? Think that’s really possible?” Mira startled at Warden Blackwall’s voice, turning to find the man inching closer to their small ring of riders that was growing alarmingly fast.

“He would never!”

“He can’t! They’re perfect!”

“Barris, you were the last to see them alone before we left. What have you seen?” Mira nudged the other Templar, backed by others.

“It is none of our business.” Barris stalled, looking uncomfortable. But they were all too curious to let the matter go.

“Spill it, Barris!” Jean-Gaspard nudged him again, and the Knight gave up with a sigh.

“I didn’t see much. Commander wasn’t looking good when I walked in with Rylen. Then her dog came in with the General following close behind. She threw me and Rylen out, and locked the doors. I heard some shouting from the office before her dog ‘suggested’ I go away by growling.” Barris shrugged, as they all groaned at the complete lack of even the slightest hint of scandal.

“There’s just no way they’re ‘friends’, is there?” Mira turned to find a young elf that somehow caught up to them with nobody noticing. Sera was shaking her head, making a disgusted face. “I mean, that jackboot acted like people. A person. Turned all Cully-wully front of everybody. Know how long I’ve tried to make him look like people? That Warden did it with one fight. No way he do that and just gives up like that.”

“Well Buttercup, I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you. Curly is the most virtuous man I have ever seen.” Varric sighed next to her.

Just then, the Commander turned around and glared at them. Mira froze, along with everyone. Some coughed, others looked away nervously, the tight ring of riders dispersing slightly under his annoyed eyes.

“I can _feel_ you talking about me. Whatever it is, stop.” He rumbled, exasperation clearly marked in his voice.

Mira coughed and looked away, unable to meet his eyes. She was as guilty as one could be – she was the one who started it, albeit accidentally. Well, maybe not so accidentally.

“Hey now, Curly, you don’t know that. We could have been talking about this nice unchanging perfectly unremarkable landscape we’ve been crawling past for last three days.” Varric chuckled, drawing the Commander’s attention away from her. Mira sent a silent thanks towards master Tethras.

“Right, and I’m the King of Ferelden.” Commander snorted, about to turn forward again. But the dwarf wasn’t done yet.

“Fine, you’re right. We were talking about you. And we’ve got a question.”

“What is it?” He sighed.

“A racing bet. Between you and the almighty Hero over there, who’s the better rider?” Varric asked, and everyone around him perked up. Master Tethras truly knew how to have fun, she thought.

“Am I supposed to believe that you didn’t just come up with this?” Commander scowled at them, though Sera and Varric simply laughed under his withering glare.

“I bet Solona is the better rider! She’s more familiar with her saddle than her bed after all.” Sister Leliana called out with a smile, jerking the Hero to attention.

“Huh? What? What about me?” She looked around, confused, and the Wardens burst out laughing. “Yes! I’ll bet on her!” Warden Tanner called.

“Aye, five sovereigns that she’ll beat him easy! General’s the best with horses amongst us for sure!”

Commander groaned, as the chant picked up among the men surrounding them, encouraging the race. He glanced at the Hero, who sighed theatrically while putting her letters into her saddlebag. Mira saw her whispering something to her assassin. The slender elf nodded and disappeared from sight quickly.

“I’ll bet eight sovereigns on the Commander!” Jim announced. Barris soon raised, which Mira called.

“Well, I can’t run from a challenge!” The Hero called out, gripping her reins tightly. Mira whooped in response, the crowd going wild at her acceptance. The Commander nodded as well. There was no way he was getting out of it now.

“How about to the tree over there then? Seems to be about five hundred yards to and back.” Sister Leliana suggested, and the contenders both swiveled around to look. She was right – the path leading up to the tree seemed quite level, wide enough for them to run side by side.

“First one to the tree and back?” Commander asked cheerfully, and the Hero nodded. They veered off from the main chunk of the army, with shouts of encouragements ringing out behind them. Mira watched silently as Jean-Gaspard followed, until the racers both stopped their horses next to each other. Jean-Gaspard checked to make sure both were at a standstill equal distance away, before raising his arm and slashing down as the start signal.

Both commanders shot forward at a blinding speed. It took them only a few strides to coax their mounts into a full gallop, boasting their excellent horsemanship. Soldiers roared, each man screaming out encouragements for the racers. She shouted too, calling out for the Commander’s victory. The horses kicked up a thick dust cloud, hot steamy breath puffing from their long noses, their manes trailing behind them.

“Whoo-hooo!” The Hero shouted out, both riding neck to neck. The Commander leaned forward on his mount, his golden locks blowing wildly, standing up slightly as his mare galloped faster and faster, and Mira saw the Hero do the same.

Commander was a good rider – an excellent one. But the Hero of Ferelden… flew. Moving like an extension of her horse, she balanced on her horse as if she weighed nothing. Powerful muscles flexed and rolled beneath her magical horse’s sparkling flank, and the gap between them started to widen, and by the time they both rounded the tree, Mira knew the Hero would win.

“Come on, Cullen!” The Hero laughed, and the Commander chuckled too. He urged his horse to speed up, trying to close the distance between them, but too late her horse thundered past the line they started from.

“Haha!” She cried, standing up and jumping atop her horseback.

“Maker’s breath, Solona, get back in your saddle!” The Commander slowed down next to her, both of their mounts panting heavily. Mira grumbled as she forfeited her sovereigns, along with Barris.

“There was no hope for me, was there?” Commander grinned at the Hero, and she laughed. “Oh no, there wasn’t. Not on that horse at least.” Her bright eyes sparkled, and for a moment Mira thought she saw that look, that naked longing back in his eyes. But she blinked, and nothing but friendly grin remained on his face.

“You’re a good rider. With a better horse, you may have been a challenge.” The Hero wiggled her fingers at him, looking smug. “With a horse like that.”

Looking past the Commander, Mira could see what the Hero was pointing at. She took an involuntary gasp at the sight, just as the other onlookers did, and the Commander turned around with a confused look.

“Andraste preserve me, is that…?” Commander’s jaw dropped as Zevran led a magnificent stallion towards him.

“Anderfel Courser. Originally bred for the Grey Wardens, very rare and highly prized breed across the Thedas. Only a few could ever even hope to lay their eyes on horses as fine as this one.” The Hero puffed, smiling proudly.

“This is my gift to you for your nameday, Commander. I do realize it is somewhat late, but I hope you will forgive me for the tardiness.”

“You’re giving that to me?” Commander snapped his mouth closed, earning another surprised gasp from the crowd. A horse like that was fit for kings and queens, at the very least.

“Yes, Commander. He’s all yours. I told you I’d get you a splendid mount if you were nice to me.”

“I didn’t think you were serious!” He dismounted from his mare, walking over to the horse. The assassin handed him the reins, and the Commander stroked the stallion’s muzzle, inspecting the noble beast closely.

“I treat my friends very well.” The Hero mused, as others gathered closely around him. Mira dismounted too, wanting a closer look.

“She treats them well, alright. Would you look at that. Huh, I don’t think I’ve seen anything that fancy even in Kirkwall’s Hightown.” The dwarf Varric stayed on his pony, looking at the new horse closely.

“Wait, what’s that on the horse’s back?” The Champion peered at the tight bundle strapped to his horse.

“Second part of his gift.” Hero grinned, motioning for him to open it.

“There’s more?” Mira asked along with everyone else, just as Commander shook his head in disbelief.

“I never officially congratulated him on becoming the Commander of Inquisition forces. So, accept it as a friendly reminder to please stay alive.” The Hero winked, and Mira watched as the Commander unhooked the bundle, pulling it down from the horseback. From the way he lifted it, Mira could tell the gift surprisingly light considering the size.

“Well, go on, open it!” Sera and Blackwall poked at him, and the Commander slowly unveiled his gift.

“ _Maker’s beard!_ ” Mira whispered, hearing Barris’ voice echoing her own.

“Is that… Is that what I think it is?” Seeker Pentaghast looked over his shoulder.

“Well, I don’t know Seeker. Are you thinking it’s one very expensive looking master-crafted armor?” Varric squinted down.

“ _Very_ expensive one.” Solas murmured.

“I can’t… I don’t... I’ve never seen…” Commander stared at her, but the Hero just smiled.

“It will keep you alive much longer than that armor will. It will make me sleep easier, Commander.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get another scratch with this armor on.” He murmured, looking down at the heavy plate piled neatly inside. It was crafted beautifully – with _veil quartz and dragon bones_. Mira’s never even seen either materials before, only hearing of the mystical crafting materials from drunken blacksmiths.

“That’s sort of the point, isn’t it? Congratulations on leaving the Order, Commander. May you never have to rely on the armor I gifted you.” The Hero patted him on his shoulder and rode towards the front of the procession with her assassin again, already engrossed in one of her letters.

Mira watched her go, her eyes flickering back and forth between the Hero of Ferelden and the Commander of the Inquisition. Perhaps they really did believed they were _friends_. But Mira knew better than them. They all knew. Commander Cullen Rutherford belonged to First Warden Solona Amell, mind and soul. Not even Andraste herself would be able to break the bond between them. Now if only their stubborn Commander would realize that, all would be fine.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Version. Here is the [link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4163601/chapters/27441195) for the remastered Second Chance for Him story.

“Hey Curly! Come sit here.” Cullen paused, even as he berated himself for responding to that ridiculous nickname. He looked over to find most of his friends clustered around one huge fire. He opened his mouth to respond.

“No, don’t even think about going to sit with your men. You’ve already drank with them four nights in a row, didn’t you? Let them have a night without their commander watching their every move.” Varric cut him off sharply, and Cullen sighed. He supposed it wouldn’t hurt to sit with them for once.

He moved over to the fire, sitting down on a log next to Hawke. The mage was already halfway into telling one of his wild tales, gesturing and grinning silly as he captivated his audience. Despite himself, Cullen felt himself focusing on the tall tales, laughing and eating with a light heart. Minutes ticked by, molding into hours as he enjoyed his time with companions, ale and tales flowing freely, Solona’s magic keeping his pains at bay. Soon after the meal – after gaping at Solona wolfing through six servings of food… six! Maker, those rumors about Warden appetite were not exaggerated – a game of Wicked Grace soon accompanied the wild tales of adventures. Somehow, Cullen found himself agreeing to betting clothes on top of money as well – but he wasn’t concerned. They all wore armors. It would be a long while before any bare skin was revealed.

“So I walk in to find Ruxton Harimann just shouting ‘Come! Felicitate me! Use the feathers!’ at top of his lungs, buck ass naked with an elven girl working on his… thing. Not a pretty sight, that. Ugh, still burned into my head. And then Sebastian just looks at me, sighs, and says ‘I beg your pardon, Hawke. I did not mean to expose you to such things.’”

“Hawke laughed loudly.” Varric chimed in behind, as everybody erupted in a fit of roaring laugher at the climax of the story. Hawke smacked Varric in the arm, and Cullen chuckled at that, drinking the ale in his mug before tossing another two silvers in to the pot. “Raise.” He called, then watched Leliana and Josephine whisper quietly before deciding to call the bet. But he was interrupted by heavy footsteps crunching towards him.

“Commander, some correspondences arrived for you.” Cullen looked up from his cards to Jim as the boy handed him two letters, and promptly ran off to resume his duties after he thanked him.

 _Letters for me now?_ He wondered, turning over the envelops curiously. All Inquisition matters were supposed to be headed to Rylen, not him. He grimaced, noting that the letters were smudged badly with water stains. It was most likely rained on, he thought, examining the ink smattered over the entire cover. The only legible word was _herford_ on the topmost one, but he had no trouble recognizing that hand. Cullen groaned. He would recognize his sister’s hand anywhere. Cullen briefly considered ignoring the letters and returning to the game, but soon discarded the thought. He couldn’t in good conscience play Wicked Grace while his sister’s letters weighed heavily in his pocket. Throwing down his cards, Cullen stood, slightly unsteady.

“I’m out for this round.” He grumbled, finishing the ale in his mug and wiping his mouth.

“Are you forfeiting completely, Commander?” Solona batted her eyes at him.

“Hardly.” He snorted, waving the letters at the group. “From my sister. I’ll be right back.”

“Uh, Curly. You just lost this round though. You need to pay up!” Varric laughed, and Cullen sighed. Without a word, he pulled the leather glove off his right hand and tossed it onto the growing pile of clothes by the fire, and shot the dwarf a look. _Satisfied?_

“Good enough.” Hawke chuckled, and Cullen walked away. He could hear the game resuming behind him, lively laughter fading with each step.

He soon walked into his tent, and sat down on his cot. He stared at the letters for a moment, dreading the harsh, snipping words he knew he deserved and would find within. Sighing, he tore up the cover and started to read the one with his name still somewhat visible. There was no point in delaying the inevitable.

_‘Dear Mia, I’m still alive. Your loving brother, Cullen’_

_Honestly, is it so difficult? We thought you were dead._ **Again** _. If the Inquisition was not on everyone’s lips, we would never have heard that their fine Commander survived Haven._

_We’ve been hearing strange things about the templars lately. I am not sorry you left them. I thought your resignation was implied when you joined the Inquisition, but you meant something more, didn’t you?_

_We’re all worried for you. Rosalie and Branson were actually considering visiting you at Haven, until the word reached us that it was attacked. You should visit us when you can, so we can see for ourselves that our brother truly has survived._

_It’s a fool’s errand asking you to stay safe, but please try._

_Your loving sister, (see how easy this is?)_

_Mia_

_Cullen!_

_Brother, Bran’s had a child born few years ago, around the time you stopped sending us letters again. A daughter. You have a niece now. Mira is training her to beat you at chess. I wanted to let you know. She’s here now – she insists I write ‘Ello Cul’ for her. She’s taken to saying ‘ello’ instead of ‘hello’ lately, says that it’s cuter to say that. She is very stubborn – how very familiar. Oh brother, I miss you, and I wish you’d been here for her birth. Branson misses you too. He’s out at the farm right now. Come back to us safe and sound._

_Your baby sister,_

_Rosalie_

He winced as he read the letter, familiar guilt surfacing once again. He’d neglected to inform his family of his survival… again… and somehow his sister tracked him down. Again. Mia always managed to track him down with uncanny accuracy, though he had no idea how she pulled that off.

By the Andraste’s grace, his siblings had not come to Haven. He shuddered to think that they might have been there, during the attack. Much better for them to be away from him, staying somewhere safe. He truly was sorry to miss his niece’s birth though. He smiled, wondering if the baby girl would take after his witty brother, or be stubborn like him. From the sound of it, sadly she seemed to take after Mia and himself.

Cullen lowered the letter, closing his eyes and falling back onto the cot. When Mia had somehow tracked him down in Kirkwall two years after fleeing Ferelden, he’d been very reluctant in responding. Even finding out that his parents had passed on from this world could not prompt him to write back easily. Cullen had wept and wept, realizing he’d sinned when Mia informed him of their passing. He’d never thought to seek out his family when he fled Ferelden. Though in his mind he knew that they could very well be dead, in his heart he always believed that they were fine, that they’d escaped the detrimental effects of the Blight. His idle fancy had cost him horribly. His parents passed away without ever finding out if their son was alright. They’d never even known he was still _alive_. Cullen had wept and howled the day he found out, horrified, but by then it was too late. He loved his family, but the man his family knew had been shattered back then, burned away by the constant anger that simmered within him. He had allowed years to pass by between the letters, managing to write only on those few days when he felt the ghost of his old self, when the silent eyes of the mages he stood vigilant over did not hold hordes of demons.

And then Kirkwall’s Circle fell, as he always feared it would, only somehow ten times worse than he had predicted. He could still hear the screams of countless innocents dying in the streets, crushed under heavy rubble of Chantry, begging for mercy. The shrieks of those that were burned alive by rage demons still rang in his ears. That time, the Right of Annulment had been invoked, and Cullen had slain nearly every mage in the city. There had been no small Warden mage blocking his way, no black haired mage that somehow shouted down his killing rage despite her slender figure.

He rolled over to his side, fisting his hand pressing against his head and curling up slightly. He screwed his eyes tightly, against the horrific images of abominations and demons that danced behind his eyelids. His hands were stained red with blood of countless lives he took that day. He could recall the grotesque heap of corpses First Enchanter Orisno had transformed into far too clearly, could feel his blade sinking deep into the sickly flesh molded together by blood magic. Cullen gritted his teeth, wishing those thoughts would leave him alone.

When Cullen became the Knight-Commander, he stopped writing back to his family. He was simply too busy dealing with the broken city, but the truth of the matter was, he couldn’t feel even the faint ghost of his old self again after living through two mage rebellions. The innocent, young boy his siblings remembered was gone. They expected a dead man’s response.

Cullen covered his eyes, pressing firmly down with his hand. He forced himself to breathe through his nose, fighting against the guilt that threatened to drown him. He trembled silently, wondering if he would be able to write back to his family this time. Would he able to forget for a moment of how Kirkwall burned? Of how demons cackled? Of the thick stench of burning flesh? Cullen trembled.

Desperate to distract himself from the torrent of memories he usually locked up, Cullen tore up the second envelop. This one’s cover was drenched so badly that there were no legible words beside ‘Mi’. Thankfully, the content seemed to have survived he journey. He read quickly, wondering somewhere in the back of his mind about why his sister sent two different letters for him.

_Maker, are you truly alive?_

_I realize that this letter might not even reach you, my lady – that the rumors of you being at Skyhold may be just that, rumors. But I must try to get a word to you. I wish I could demand Cullen to get this letter to you. It would make things much easier but I swore not to mention you to him, and I will keep my promise._

_We are all so worried about you, lady Amell. Three years, with the rumors all but declaring you dead. I realize that you told us you’d be gone and out of contact, but couldn’t you at least let us know that you are not dead in a ditch somewhere? Honestly, you’re just as bad as Cullen._

Cullen bolted up, sitting upright as he worked through the letter. All thoughts of Kirkwall lay forgotten now.

_Not that you’re obligated to of course. It’s just that we are worried sick. Without you, we wouldn’t even be alive. My lady, you’re part of our family in all but name. You’ve always written to us about our Cullen’s welfare, and asked after ours. You kept the Rutherfords alive through the troubled years. And yet you’ve been uncharacteristically silent since the Meredith episode. You’ve been completely mute about this Conclave exploding and this Corypheus character, and we fear for your safety. We hope you’re not hurt. Please, if you can, let us know that you’re alright. Don’t be dead._

_Mia_

_Hello, Solona._

_It’s Branson. We heard that you got trapped in the Fade! You are okay, right? Demons didn’t possess you? I named my daughter after you. There’s no way my daughter’s namesake gets beaten by something as silly as demons, right? Little Solona insists I add ‘ello Sol’ to this letter. She also insists it be ‘ello’ and not ‘hello’. I’ve never seen a more headstrong child, except maybe my stupid brother. I wonder if this is because of her uncle or her namesake?_

_All jokes aside, I hope you do not mind me naming my daughter after you. I simply could not think of a better name, a better person I wanted my daughter to look up to. It may be a little selfish of me, but I hoped that by naming her after you a little of your strength and virtue would rub off on her. Though hopefully not the bad luck. You and Cullen seems to have ample amount of bad luck that makes disaster just chase after you. Hopefully that doesn’t rub off on little Solona._

_Hey, be safe. Who else would look after my idiotic brother if you were to die? He wouldn’t have survived all these years if it wasn’t for you watching over him. And even if he is a stubborn ass, he is my brother. Keep him safe, Solona, and keep yourself safe too. Come visit us when you can. Little Sol wants to meet you, so you better not die!_

_Branson._

_Lady Amell_

_We’ve written to Vigil’s Keep, Amaranthine, Denerim, and all the other usual places and you’re silent. Please, we’re just worried about you. Stay safe, and send us a letter! Or perhaps you could even come visit us sometime you’re free? We’d love to see you again. Though, of course you must be busy as the Hero of Ferelden, with the sky ripping open and everything. I hope we’re not being presumptuous._

_Also, how’s Zevran doing? It’s been so long since we’ve seen you two. Has he mentioned me at all? Please don’t’ tell him I asked that! Oh, I really should stop writing about him now. Just… just let us know you’re alive. You mean too much to us._

_Rosalie_

Cullen read the letter again.

He read the letter again after that.

The words on the paper stubbornly stayed the same, the thin scribble on paper staring mockingly up at him. _How_ in Andraste’s sake did his family know the Hero of Ferelden? Claim her as part of the family? Promise not to mention her to him? He stared down at the letter, tempted to read it just one more time to make certain that he wasn’t misreading this letter, that it wasn’t a new encryption system Leliana’s come up with.

But he knew the letter held nothing but the words he read, no matter how impossible they seemed. Cullen folded the letter back up, his hands shaking. He should give the letter to her. He should apologize for reading it. Maker, how long had she been in contact with his family?

He stood unsteadily, the letter held tentatively in his hand. Should he give her the letter? Wouldn’t it be better if he gave it to a messenger instead to pass it along?

He shook himself angrily and stomped out of his tent, his feet carrying him to the fire his friends were sitting around at. No, he would hand her the letter himself, and demand answers. He had a right to know.

By the fire, the game had progressed far. He noticed the pile of clothes had grown remarkably during his absence – most of the players have been relieved of their armors.

“You’re back!” Zevran called cheerfully across the fire.

“Indeed. Now we can finally work on getting him naked.” Dorian smirked, sharing a grin with the elf.

His words were met with amused laughter, but before Cullen could respond, Bull’s loud voice boomed.

“Ha! And I take this pot! Strip!”

Solona groaned as she unbuckled her belt. “Does my belt count?”

“No, my lady. The belt most absolutely does not count.” Blackwall cheerfully took off his boots, and Solona peeled off her battle coat, tossing it into the pile.

“Solona, will you speak with me for a moment?” Cullen walked over to her, holding his hand out for her to grab on.

“Now?”

“Now.” He did not withdraw his hand. After looking at him curiously, Solona grabbed his hand and stood unsteadily, her grasp a little clumsy. They’d all had little too much to drink for the night.

“Look, look. Such a gentleman.” She giggled, poking his arm with her fingers and waving to the group. Cullen sighed, wondering if she was too drunk for this conversation. Zevran stood up as well, keeping her steady in his firm grasp.

“Now, now my dear Warden, let the strapping Commander be.” The elf slowly led her towards the tent, and Cullen followed the two, ignoring the suggestive whistles and hoots sounding wildly across the camp.

Soon, the three of them reached her tent, marked with the Warden heraldry thrown over the top.

Cullen walked into her tent, closing the flap behind him as Zevran lowered her onto the bedroll and sat down as well. She smiled brightly at Cullen, patting the other bedroll spread out on the floor.

“Sit, Curly. Cully-wully Curly Cullen.” She sang, and Zevran simply chuckled. He withdrew the sharpened hair sticks from her tight bun, and started to untie the thick braids that held her long locks in place. Cullen settled down in front of them.

“Commander Cullen. Cuuullllen. Is something the matter, Commander? Everybody’s got a problem. Oh, look, let’s make that random mage solve all the problems in the worrrllllllld. So what is it? I can take it. Darkspawn running amok? Rats eating all our food?”

Wordlessly he passed her the letter.

“What’s this?” She dangled the parchment, cocking her head. Zevran clicked his tongue in annoyance at her movement, his hands still tangled with her hair.

“Read it. It’s for you.”

His tone must have caught her attention. She looked up, still flushed red with numerous drinks, but her eyes seemed to focus albeit a little. Shrugging, she unfolded the letter and started to read while Zevran combed out the tangles in her hair, also reading over her shoulder. Cullen watched her carefully as her eyes worked through each lines. He did not miss the slight wince that flitted past her face.

“You know my family?” He growled, as she folded the letter and pocketed it.

“Ah… yes.” Solona suddenly grew fascinated with her hands. “I believe I met them once in Honnleath.”

“And you made them promise not to tell me.”

“I don’t know if promise is the word I’d use. More like a light suggestion, really.” She peeked out from under her lashes, fidgeting.

“Explain it to me.” Cullen stubbornly set his jaw, refusing to back down.

“Um, well. I, uh, stopped by Honnleath during the Blight to pick up Shale. Your family happened to be there during that time. We spoke a little.” She chewed on her lips, her eyes careful.

“And?” Cullen bit out, knowing she was holding back.

Zevran chuckled as Solona squirmed, shifting his eyes over to him.

“When our illustrious leader led us to the peaceful, charming little village of Honnleath, we found those pesky darkspawns razing the small town. Not that surprising since they seemed to be everywhere during the Blight, but there was one aspect that was uncommon. Matthias, his name was I think.”

Solona nodded, gathering herself up. “That’s right. Son of Wilhelm. When the attack began, Matthias gathered the villagers into his cellar, protecting them within Wilhelm’s magical defenses. They were cornered inside the cellar when I reached them, with darkspawn clawing at the magic shield. We killed them all and rescued the survivors. Your family was also in that cellar.”

Cullen forced himself to breathe evenly. They’d never told him how bad it’d been during the Blight. He hadn’t realized it’d been so _close._ He’d been such a _fool!_ Of course it’d been bad. His family was but a common farmers. There’d been thousands of refugees running from the Blight in Kirkwall alone. He should have known better. He should have seen past Mia’s confident words.

“And then there was Bluebell.” Zevran crinkled his nose, drawing a laugh from Solona.

“Ah, yes, Bluebell. That was one fiiiiiiiine druffalo.” She relaxed slightly, leaning on her arm.

“My _dear_ Warden decided that your family couldn’t possibly flee Honnleath properly without a pack animal.” Zevran scowled, glaring at Solona who had fallen backwards laughing. “So she went hunting for a druffalo of all things. Disgusting, smelly, slumbering beast. She spent three days with it in the village, taming it. We stank for weeks after.”

“Bluebell was totally worth it. And it didn’t smell any worse than your strange leather stench.” Solona giggled, turning back towards him. “It was _enormous_ but gentle as a doe. It carried all your family’s things and had enough room for Rosalie to sit on.”

Cullen shook his head, blinking. His family moved to South Reach on a _druffalo?_ Why hadn’t Mia mentioned any of this?

“Why did you keep this a secret?”

“Oh, because you were still mad at me for the tower.” Solona shrugged, sitting back up. Zevran was still fuming silently, and Cullen wondered just how bad the ‘Bluebell’ must have smelled. And just how much she’d drank.

“I figured you wouldn’t be too happy hearing about me from your family after the entire rebellion thing.” Solona swayed lightly, her eyes slowly losing focus, her words slurring together. “So I suggested to your family about keeping me secret.”

“Is that how Mia always managed to find me?”

“Yeeaahhhupp. After, waaay after the Siege of Amaranthine, I sent a letter to them to check that they made it to South Reach safely. Mia complained about you missing, so I told her you were being a hardass in Kirkwall.” Solona giggled. “Hardass.” She repeated with a mischievous grin.

“What she means to say, is that templars didn’t bother informing your family of your transfer, despite your lovely sister making inquiries one after another. Knight-Captain Hadley was very nice to my Warden though, telling us exactly where you were and why. We kept your family informed of your continued survival after each disasters you worked through.” Zevran sighed dryly. “The two mage rebellions and the qunari invasion, to name the few.”

He nodded, until a thought struck him. His parents.

“My parents…” Cullen whispered, unable to continue. Cullen had never asked for details from his family, fearing the answer. His guilt sat too heavy in his gut, twisting it into knots, and he shook uncontrollably. Did he want to know? He wasn’t sure, but Cullen felt he needed to know. He clenched his jaw, bracing himself for the worst as Solona sat up straight again, her eyes focusing, her easy smile vanishing completely.

“I’m sorry, Cullen.” She sighed, placing her hand over his fist. “The majority of the villagers were already dead by the time I got there. Your parents… they… your siblings tried to save them, managed to bring them to Matthias’ cellar, but the wound was too deep. There was nothing we could do. They didn’t suffer, Cullen. We couldn’t save them all, but we could ease their passing.”

Cullen lowered his head, closing his eyes. If he’d been there, would he have been able to save them? Could he have protected them? He was one of the best warriors. And yet he’d failed to protect those he’d sworn to. He couldn’t even protect his parents. What if he’d requested leave to his family instead of fleeing Ferelden? He had been a cruel son to them. Allowed them to pass away without ever finding out what happened to their first son.

“I failed them. I failed them too.” He hissed, screwing his eyes tightly against the tears that threatened to spill. “They never found out what happened to me. Maker, they passed without ever knowing if their son was alright. How could I do that to them?”

Zevran gripped him on the shoulder firmly, for once saying nothing. He felt her small hands holding his, grasping tightly enough to still his trembling limb.

“I told them.” She breathed softly.

Cullen raised his head, his eyes fixated onto her. Her rosy lips moved, uttering words he couldn’t understand.

“When I tended to them after the darkspawn, they’d seen me cast spells. Your family asked me if I knew you from the Circle, since I was a mage. Your parents were concerned about you till the end.” She stroked his hand, gentle and warm.

“I told them that you were okay, that you stayed strong through the trials Maker’s set for you. They passed knowing all of their children were safe in this world. I told them that they should be proud, for their son remained strong and faithful where many failed.”

“They said that they were glad to know you lived before they passed. Your parents knew, and were proud of their son.” Zevran murmured, nodding.

“They knew?” Cullen whispered. He’d regretted it for so long, for never reaching out to his parents when he had the chance. It was one of the worst mistakes he’s ever made. Could it truly be true? Could she have truly eased their way?

“Your parents loved you, Cullen. They did not suffer. They were content.” She wiped away the tears spilling down his cheeks.

“Thank you.” He cried, repeating the words endlessly. “Thank you,”

It was a debt he could never repay her for.

“ _Thank you_ ,” He broke down, weeping shamelessly.

She drew him into her embrace, patting his head and cradling him.

“They knew.” He whispered, rejoicing.

She rocked him gently, her voice a comforting song as she hummed softly for him as he mourned.

He mourned, properly, for his loving parents who’d passed away so abruptly. He mourned for his family, brutally ran off from their homeland, and mourned for the years he’d spent separated from them.

Cullen mourned, for himself, for the young innocent boy that had fractured so many years ago. His spilled tears took with them the years of pain and suffering, cleansing him from within.

Cullen mourned.

And then, he would finally start on the long path to recovery.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Version. Here is the [link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4163601/chapters/27441195) for the remastered Second Chance for Him story.

He smiles, a little twitch at his lips, a small grin that spreads until it threatens to split his face. He knows he may look a little foolish, but he can’t help himself. He smiles.

“So, Adamant.” He leans against the door frame, his smile dancing on his face. He knows he shouldn’t feel so ecstatic about this – he really shouldn’t, but then again he’s always been honest with his feelings.

“You lost the Grey Wardens, eh?” He smirks, knowing that would earn that glare from the magicker. There is a quiet song in his mind, singing softly, but he doesn’t mind. It’s as part of him as his beating heart is. The mage scowls.

“Even better, _she_ survived your Nightmare. She took her Wardens and the Nightmare.” He laughs, a pleased, genuine laughter that rumbles from deep within his chest. Even though the entire Thedas thought her dead for the past few years, _he_ has never believed those spurious rumors because he knew her too well. _He_ had known she would come back, and claim her Wardens.

But even he had thought she’d perished at Adamant, sacrificing herself for few hundred lackeys that weren’t worth the dirt on her boots. But she survived. _She survived for him_.

“Better luck at that fucking Ball.”

The magicker bent over the table finally straightens up, glaring at him. That just makes him smirk even more.

“The assassination plot shall fare better than your failed scheme at Therinfal Redoubt.” She sneers at him, and now it’s his turn to scowl.

“If you hadn’t lost all the templars and Envy there, you may have been more useful at Adamant.” She continues to goad him, and he bristles.

“The only reason you held onto your Venatori is because Cullen focused his attention onto the templars.” The song grows a little louder in his head, stronger, deeper. So much _deeper_ than it used to be. And with it, his anger grows. The red dust feeds that burning sensation, and he is enraged. He’s so angry, but he’s also adapted. He’s always felt angry, even before the red entered his blood. So, he merely shrugs and spits.

“The only thing that matters is _success_. You have failed. I have not. I shall be the Vessel for the Elder One.” She grins at him, a smug smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. He spits again.

“Fuck off. You’ve lost the entire Grey Warden army you were supposed to deliver. Nightmare is dead and your Livius is captured by the Inquisition. You won’t remain within His favor for long.”

“And yet He has entrusted the assassination of Celene to me, not you.” She glances down at her desk a gain. “Perhaps He foresees that you shall falter against the Commander once more.”

He wants to throttle her, choke her, shake her until she drops dead. The lyrium sings its deep song, urging his hands to wrap tightly around her slender neck, until she foams at the mouth, until her smug eyes pop out of her skull from the pressure.

“I already got something special planned for Cullen.” He hisses out. “And He has entrusted me to lead His army. That weakling doesn’t stand a chance against me.”

He shakes his head, closing his eyes. His old bunkmate Cullen. Oh yes, he’s got something planned for him alright. Especially after he stole his templars – he can’t ever forgive him, not for his lost templars, and especially not for _her_.

“Try not to fail again, Calpernia. I know you’re wasting your time on those slaves.” He opens his bloodshot eyes again, two red eyes zoning in on the mageling.

“Knowing the Hero of Ferelden, she is sure to meddle at the Winter Palace again.”

“You speak as if you know her well.” Calpernia looks to him, for once losing her spiteful glare. She looks curious, as most do when they hear of his Hero of Ferelden.

“Better than most. I’ve talked to her often enough.” He hates how she swims to the forefront of his mind, somehow dampening the song singing within him. He sees that gentle smile that plays on her lips, sees her kind eyes crinkle with amusement. He shakes his head roughly, trying to shove the images out of his head, reaching, searching for the blood-red song.

“Let those slaves rot, they’re not worth your time.” He sneers at the mage instead, trying not to see the stark difference between her and the Warden in his mind. “Slave bitch.” He mutters under his breath.

“You dare!” Her eyes flash with anger, her hands rising towards him with blinding speed. But he simply snorts, Cleansing the area with ease. He is strong. He is so much stronger than ever before, with the red within him.

“I’ll look forward to the reports, slave. Do not underestimate the First Warden.” He laughs crudely, walking away from the fuming magicker.

“Yes, I’ll look forward to your defeat, Calpernia.” He chuckles quietly once more when he is out of her office. His First Warden wouldn’t lose to the likes of Calpernia. He would drag her down from her supposed glory with his own two hands. He would be the one to claim her. He would demean her, to pollute her with his red. It would be him, who twists and corrupts her smile into something more… angry. Not the slave bitch, or even the Elder One. It would be _him_.

Yes, _he_ would be the one to pervert her, and he would claim her like no man ever has. He smiles to himself, his steps a little lighter than before.

He would claim her, both body and soul. Samson would make her _his_.

* * *

“A fine day, isn’t it? No dreary wind cutting straight through to one’s bones, no wet rain drenching everything in sight, sun actually shining in the sky for once?”

Cullen sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Or, no constant snow making everything all soppy and cold for that matter. Truly, what a fine day.”

“What do you want, Dorian?” Cullen grumbled, knowing the mage wouldn’t go away until he’s had his fill.

“Why, Commander. Nothing but a simple talk. A small chitchat, an exchange of words.” The mage grinned at him, his fine mustache twitching meticulously with the motion.

Cullen knew this was going nowhere good. He stared straight forward, pointedly keeping the man at the very edge of his peripheral vision.

“Regarding?”

“Why, that fine young lady over there whom everyone seems absolutely enamored with. Excluding my glorious self, of course.”

Cullen let out a long, deep sigh, making certain the mage could hear. The damned man only smiled brighter.

“Why?”

“Well you see, I’ve left you alone in Skyhold when you decided to go and make that awfully public display of kissing her, because I knew you’d say you were too busy, or something to that effect. But now we’ve been doing nothing but marching for the past five days and I couldn’t help but notice that you actually don’t have mountain-load of work threatening to bury you, _and_ that you seem to have worked things out with the charming lady over there. I simply must inquire about it.”

“This seems like a conversation I want to be a part of.”

Cullen groaned loudly as Hawke trotted forward on his mount, catching up to them. The blighted man only chuckled loudly.

“So, you and my cousin, what’s going on between you two?”

“Andraste preserve me. Why do I tolerate this?” Cullen muttered, glaring at the two smirking mages. Those two must have been sent by Maferath himself to torment him.

“Come now, don’t be shy. So after that that enchanting display…?” Dorian trailed off with a suggestive quirk to his brows, and Cullen looked to the heavens with an exasperated sigh.

“Maker, what would it take for you two to give up on this?”

Dorian and Hawke looked to each other, before chuckling out the answer simultaneously. “Nothing.”

Cullen wondered if he should Smite them.

“It is none of your business.”

“Ah, that’s what makes it better.” Dorian smirked, somehow drawing his horse even closer.

“And to me, it _is_ my business. She’s my cousin.” Hawke sang.

“Even so-”

“Oh, come now. Whatever it is, you will feel better after letting it off your chest. I dare say that’s what friends are for. So would you please stop being so stubborn and get on with the talking? It will happen eventually, no matter how opposed you are to the idea.” Dorian cut him off, waving dismissively.

“There is nothing to ‘get off my chest’. I’m fine.”

“Oh? Then think of it as indulging your fabulous friend.”

“Maker’s breath. Don’t you two have anything better to do?”

“Better than this? No, I don’t think so.” Hawke laughed, drawing a few curious glances from his lieutenants behind them.

“Trust me, you want to talk about it. You’ve gone too long keeping everything bottled up inside you. It’s only a matter of time before your head explodes from all the ridiculous things you’ve stuffed in there.” Dorian twirled the tip of his mustache with a finger.

“We are friends.” Cullen muttered, finally giving in.

“Yes, yes, friends.” Hawke snorted. “Where have I heard that one before?”

“There really is no reason to be so defensive, Commander.” Dorian shook his head. “Do move on to the juicy bits now please.”

“No, that’s not… it’s…” Cullen sighed, frustrated, before starting again.

“She and I have… agreed to be friends. I do not know what we were before the… _sparring match_ , but we are friends now.”

“What? So the entire friendly thing between the two of you wasn’t just you being awkward?” Hawke gaped, mouth hanging wide open.

“What do you mean ‘awkward’? I’m not awkward.” He scowled.

“So let me get this straight. You two are friends? Actually friends? Really?” Dorian asked, eyes slightly wide.

“Yes.” He bit out, annoyed.

“You two agreed to be friends? Shook hands and all? _Friends?_ ”

“Why is that so hard to grasp?”

“Because it’s the biggest load of horseshit I’ve ever heard!” Hawke shook his head, smacking his palm to his head. “ _Friends?_ ”

“I don’t see the problem with it. Neither did she, when I suggested it.”

“ _You_ suggested it? _Why?_ ” Hawke looked as if he was about to strangle him.

“It simply isn’t possible.” He shrugged. “We have duties and oaths that binds us.”

“So?” Dorian stared, uncomprehending.

“She’s a Grey Warden. _The_ Hero. An arlessa. Must I list every title she has?”

“Again, _so?_ ” Hawke asked, exasperated.

“She’s right. We would never be able to have a family. Settle down, grow old together. She’s also involved with Alistair and Zevran, not to mention being the First Warden.” Cullen shrugged, turning his gaze towards the front again where Solona Amell rode.

“She would never fully be mine.” He murmured, watching her giggle as she rode next to Leliana. Her laugh rang clear like tiny bells.

“No matter how badly I want her, she would never be mine.” He smiled, watching her.

“Fasta vass! _That’s_ your reason for being friends with her? For _giving up?_ ” Dorian swore sharply, his sudden anger startling Cullen.

“I’m not-”

“Vishante kaffas, and here I thought you had finally gathered your wits about you.”

“I’m not ‘giving up’. I’m protecting _us_.” Cullen gestured vaguely towards her. “She and I, we have a bond that formed in the Circle tower. It’s lasted this long, despite my best attempts to break it. I’m not willing to risk that bond any longer. I made it fragile enough as it is. Having a _we_ is all that matters to me.”

“But at what cost?” Hawke nudged gently, as Dorian continued to fume.

“Cost? You mean a third of a relationship? That is something I am more than willing to pay.” He shrugged.

“You Chantry-raised types are terribly dull. She will never be yours? Never raise a family?” Dorian scoffed, his tone much sharper than usual. “Since when did you start caring about something like that?”

“Is it so strange that I want something aside from constant war-reports of Inquisition?” He sighed, throwing him a glance. “There’s still a lot of work ahead but I do want something other than constant battles in the future. I want to move on from this, and maybe find another Solona.”

“No, he’s asking since when you wanted to make a family.” Hawke clicked his tongue. “Why did you become a templar?”

“I could think of no better calling than to protect those in need.” He answered immediately. There has never been any doubt on his part.

“You wanted to be a templar and then you became the best one. You know as well as I that templars devote their lives to the ‘service of the Maker’ and such, which leaves them not much room for soft things like families. So since when did you want a grubby, drooling, screaming little baby? Certainly not before your vows, and from what I saw, it also was not during your time at Kirkwall.”

“I…” Cullen faltered. Truth be told, such thoughts had never even crossed his mind before. Usually his concerns regarding the blood mages and abominations had crowded his head, blocking out anything else. And after Anders blew up the Chantry, he hadn’t considered anything further than surviving till the next day.

“Moving on from the tiny annoying humans, let’s discuss _her_. You see her, yes? The same black-haired woman riding on that magic horse? Not some obnoxious Orlesian or Antivan widow or something?”

“Get to the point, Dorian.” He grumbled.

“She is a remarkable woman, Commander. And I mean that in the best way. You see that, yes?”

“Yes, Dorian.” He replied tersely. He knew better than anyone.

“And you wish to claim her? Like you claim a piece of furniture? Or a horse? A house perhaps?” Dorian’s horse shied, responding to the mage’s snap.

“That’s not-”

“Yes, that’s exactly what you said. You said she would never be yours, like some lost mutt covered in mud. _Of course_ she isn’t going to be yours! _She_ is not a property that can be traded.”

“And that’s coming from a slave-owning Tevinter mage.” Hawke muttered under his breath.

“Which only goes to show how special lady Amell is.” Dorian retorted, before turning back to him. “A woman like that; a charming, smart, beautiful, and powerful woman like her can’t be _claimed_. What would you do if you claimed her, as you said? Make her do dishes at home while you order about the Inquisition army? Have her clean the house and do your laundry? A woman who’s led an army against the Blight; do you think that would make her happy?”

“I wasn’t-”

“You love her. A blind fool could see that. But you expect her to give herself to you, so you can _claim_ her. Well, what about you? Are you prepared to give yourself to her? Hand her your leash, as they say? What if, say, the alliance between the Grey Wardens and the Inquisition fell apart? Say that lady Amell’s finally had enough of the Inquisitor’s shit, and ends the alliance and leave. Who knows? It’s completely possible considering the abhorrent treatment she’s gotten so far. Would you follow her? She would continue the fight against Corypheus even without the Inquisition. You know she would, so would you give her yourself? Would you let her _claim_ you? You certainly expect her to remain here for you.”

Cullen opened his mouth, but no words came.

“You want her to cut ties with the Wardens, give up her position as the First Warden to be with you, a position she’s held for past ten years _successfully_ , saving thousands of lives. And yet you don’t think you can let go of the position of the Commander you’ve barely had for a year.” Hawke sighed, shaking his head. “My cousin has already given herself to Thedas. She can’t give herself to anyone, because she’s already given herself fully to everyone on this continent.”

Hawke flicked his reign, looking over to Solona as well.

“My cousin… she’s not like me, Curly. I became the Champion because I looked out for myself. Chasing down money, doing every odd job because I needed the coin, not because I wanted to particularly help the people until the title accidentally fell into my lap. In the form of a qunari. That came later, and even then it was more of an obligation as the Champion. _She_ has saved millions of lives when she was seventeen, Curly. Did you know that she was going to sacrifice her life? Give away her life for the death of the Archdemon? Zevran told me one night when he got _really_ drunk. She has devoted herself to the people that’s living in this world since then. She has already given herself wholeheartedly to you, and yet you expect more. Dorian’s right, you can’t claim a woman like my cousin.”

Dorian sighed, before gesturing for Cullen to follow. The mage urged his horse off the main road and stopped, allowing for the bulk of their force to pass them by. When Cullen pulled up by him, Dorian spoke again.

“Why do you have to claim her to have a relationship? Why can’t you just be with her? Together? Without taking pieces of her? Do you think that assassin of hers stays with her because he _has_ her? Do you think that perhaps the King of Ferelden and the assassin’s split her evenly half and half? That that’s why they perhaps _share_ her between themselves, like a plaything?”

Cullen blanched, cold sweat breaking out on his back at such horrid words.

“No of course not. You’ve seen the way that man looks at her. There’s no way he thinks of such things. They are just together, without _taking_ anything from each other. They are just happy to _be_. Do you think the King of Ferelden refuses to take a queen simply because of the fun he has with a half-owned girl? They’ve learned to take what happiness they can in this harsh world, and to make most of it. They add to each other’s life, not taking away little pieces of each other. She’s given away so much of herself already, Commander. I would advise you to stop splitting her into pieces before you harm her.” Dorian laid his full gaze onto him, before urging his horse to trot away. Hawke stayed for a moment longer.

“I’ve been lucky. You know, I’ve been lucky enough to find that with Fenris. And it’s as you said, you and my cousin have a special tie that no one can break. Don’t waste that bond on ‘friends’. You already have friends. Good friends like Dorian and Varric, and myself. But you’ll never find another ‘Solona.’ You may find love, but you won’t find another _Solona_.”

As Hawke rode away as well to join the procession, Cullen stared. His searching eyes soon landed on her swaying back, her hips rolling in time with her horse’s steps. Even from this distance he could see that she wore an easy smile, her blue armor glinting in the dazzling sunlight.

Another Solona. Maker, Hawke was right. He wasn’t even hoping for another love somewhere further down the road. He was hoping for another ‘Solona’. But there would be no other ‘Solona’. She was _exquisite_ , particular in a way no one else was.

She was his first mage.

She was his first love.

She was his savior.

She was his Hero.

She was his family’s protector.

She was his friend.

She was his love.

She was _Solona_.

Cullen kicked his horse, spurring his stallion on with a reckless speed. Maker, what a _fool_ he’d been.

His horse’s hooves pounded against the dirt, ground blurring past as he urged his horse on and on. He would tell her. He would apologize for his foolishness, and he would make her _see_. And they would be together, for he could not possibly imagine being with someone other than _her_. For no one made him happier than her.

Cullen galloped past his lieutenants, joyous smile lingering on his lips. He knew for certain. He knew beyond any shadow of doubt that he wanted to be with her, damn the consequences. For _nothing_ was worth losing her. He drew up next to her finally, his horse puffing out hot heavy breathes, its flanks heaving, and he looked to her, to finally just _be with her_.

Her eyes were of steel, her mouth set in a grim line that left no room for soft words. She looked as if she was sculpted of _ice_. The words that were dancing on his tongue, the soft words that begged to spill from his lips cooled, freezing in her stern presence.

“Commander.” Her musical voice no longer held a song within it. Her eyes shifted to meet his gaze. He found the First Warden there, a veteran commander, the Hero of Ferelden. A hardened woman who shouldered the weight of this world.

“It seems we have arrived.”

The Winter Palace glittered above them all.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Version. Here is the [link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4163601/chapters/27441195) for the remastered Second Chance for Him story.

Jane tapped her feet impatiently, arms crossed over her breasts. Maker, what was taking her so long? She hissed, annoyed as her Spymaster and Ambassador paced endlessly.

“Maker, where _is_ she?” Jane snapped, making the others flinch.

Jane was finally at the Orlesian Court. This was the night she’d been groomed for since the moment she was born. Endless days of learning the Game, the dances, the court intrigues; she’s finally made it. The Winter Palace at Halamshiral. Despite her abhorrent magic, despite the sky being torn open, despite the green Mark on her hand, she’s finally just beyond the door that led to her life’s entire purpose. The place where she belonged, where the world made _sense_. The world full of beautiful, rustling dresses where each feather, each ruffle, each ribbon whispered deep secrets to her. The world full of tasty frilly cakes, shining gems, and handsome nobles. Jane was finally here.

And yet _she_ couldn’t walk in because of one hateful mage who was conspicuously missing.

“I do not know, Inquisitor. She should have arrived a while ago.” Josephine worried, her eyes trained onto the staircase.

“She’s so going to be late. She’s never late! Why is she late?” Leliana muttered under her breath, her military-style ball gown rustling with each agitated step she took. Jane looked at her two advisors critically, her eyes sweeping over them as she once again checked their outfits.

Her female advisors had elected to wear the Inquisition colors for their matching uniform-like dresses, a dazzling mixture of black, red, and gold. And despite the ball gowns being identical, the two women stood out in their own ways. Jane had rejected many previous outfit options, until she was certain the advisors would not belittle her flamboyant presence at the grand Ball of Winter Palace.

“Aren’t we all already late?” Her Commander cocked his head, looking fairly green in his military-cut uniform. Despite his nervous and uncomfortable twitches, her Commander looked drop-dead gorgeous in black formal-wear, accented around the shoulders and the belt with detailed embroidery colored the same golden as his smoothed-back hair. A deep-red sash cut across his body diagonally then wrapped sensually around his midsection, and even through the thick, heavy velvet layered over him she could see his chiseled muscles flexing deliciously.

Jane could possibly swoon all over him if she wasn’t too careful.

“We are ‘fashionably late’, my dear. Not late. But First Warden is going to be ‘plain-darn-late’ if she doesn’t show up in next two minutes.” Lady Vivienne shifted, her rich violet dress shimmering. As expected, her outfit was simply stunning. The deep purple brought out her perfect ebony skin, her killer heels allowing her to tower over most nobles.

Cullen grumbled low in his throat, his face clearly saying what his thinly pursed lips did not. But Jane did not care too much about his discomfort at Orlesian Game – the man was too handsome for anyone to feel truly offended by tonight. He was very pleasing to look at; she wouldn’t have to worry about his lack of social graces harming her Inquisition.

Jane barely stopped herself from scowling as her eyes flitted over to the stairs again, keeping her face still with iron will. To be late to the Ball – while being Her Majesty’s guest! She couldn’t even be introduced to the court properly because the damnable mage came as Queen Celene’s guest, not Duke Gaspard’s like her. The despicable mage had to be introduced first by the order of rank.

If only she would get her corrupted self to show up on time.

It was getting harder not to scowl. Leliana and Josephine were both pacing now, concerns etched deeply onto their faces.

“I am going to kill her.” Leliana muttered again, her eyes constantly flicking towards the stairs. Jane agreed wholeheartedly. Probably more literally than her Spymaster planned on.

“Do not worry, she’ll be here momentarily. We can hardly get the festivities started without my dear Warden’s presence gracing the dance floor, yes?”

Jane whirled around, shocked to hear the velvety voice of that loathsome assassin of hers drift out behind her. He wasn’t there a moment ago! But the Crow was standing there, grinning smugly at her party’s surprised looks.

She eyed the Crow critically, noticing that most of his outfit was comprised of thick leather, supple and of highest quality one could buy. It was a mesmerizing mixture of black, blue, and brown that wrapped tightly around his perfectly sculpted body, flawlessly accented with dark red. The long coat came to rest around his mid-calves, covered by handsome leather boots and very tight dragon-webbing trousers.

If her Commander was the epitome of honorable and handsome Knight, the damned assassin was the very embodiment of sensuality. Jane couldn’t help but applaud quietly at his impeccable sense for fashion, though she hated the fact that _her_ knife-ear looked so perfect.

Jane hoped that the blighted wretch didn’t share the knife-ear’s exquisite taste in clothing. She’d put a lot of money into her own ball gown – and she simply could not allow that First Warden to overshadow her at this important Ball.

Her very first Ball at the Winter Palace, her very first introduction into the Orlesian Court! No, she could not allow the First Warden to steal away her spotlight tonight.

Perhaps she should ignore her and march into the Ball to be introduced now. Or perhaps she should have sent a few servants to rip that woman’s prepared clothes to shreds.

But it was too late for any of that now, as the black-haired mage bounded into view. “I’m here, I’m here!”

The party fell into completely shocked silence at the sight, except for the Crow’s amused chuckle. For once Jane couldn’t remember how to speak, her mind going completely blank at the unexpected clothes the First Warden wore.

Her Spymaster was the first to recover, striding over to the woman and shaking her hard while her Commander chuckled happily and Ambassador looked horrified.

“Sol, what are you _thinking?_ Go change, now!” Leliana nearly growled.

“I go change, I’m late. See how perfectly I timed this?” The woman winked, her lips curving up in a mischievous grin.

“This is not funny! It’s not a joke!” Leliana seemed just about ready to explode.

“And I’m not joking. I fully intend to walk in there wearing this.”

“You swore to me you’d wear a dress!”

“I am!” She widened her eyes innocently. “I am wearing a formal _dress_ uniform.”

“Solona!”

“I told you, I’m good at avoiding dresses.”

Cullen nodded approvingly, his eyes glimmering with mirth.

“My Warden looks lovely no matter what she wears, yes?” The knife-ear chuckled happily beside her, finally snapping Jane out of her shock.

“Zev, you knew she was planning to wear this, and you didn’t stop her?” Leliana whirled around, glaring daggers at the knife-ear.

The First Warden was wearing _trousers_. At a ball. At the Winter Palace Ball. This woman was daft.

She wore a simplistic military-cut clothing that was somewhere between Cullen and Zevran. While her chosen style did not explicitly have any metal bits attached to it, it was easy enough to recognize as an imitation of a ceremonial armor for a mage. The blue and white stripes of Grey Wardens accentuated her curves, though nowhere as much as the corset Jane wore did.

“Come on, Leliana! It’s really not that bad.” The Warden smiled at her Spymaster, gently nudging.

“Besides, it says everything that needs to be said. The color shows that I’m a Warden, the style reminds everyone that I’m a free mage, and the cut tells everyone I’m a military leader. The only thing it does not say is ‘look at me, I’m wearing a pretty dress!’ And,” Solona stopped Leliana before she could protest, “it will actually let me fight without being hindered by all that extra fabric. Come on, how am I supposed to kill people while being covered by all that cloth?”

“First Warden, there may not be people necessarily dying tonight.” Josephine coughed lightly, trying to regain her composure.

“Oh, Ambassador. There will _definitely_ be people dying tonight by my hands. _Someone_ will pay for me wading through the Court of Orlais I’ve managed to avoid for so long. If Tevinter bastards don’t show up, or if the assassins just prance back home, I’m going to end up killing these insufferable nobles out of sheer annoyance. So you better pray that the Tevinters come ruin the Ball tonight.”

Her Commander snorted, clearly amused and in complete agreement. That drew the woman’s eyes towards him.

“Commander, you look as if you could join in on the rampant massacre I’m planning on.”

“I agree wholeheartedly with your sentiment, General. You can count me in.” He replied with a crooked smile, a first relaxed one she’s seen from him all day.

Jane had to restrain herself from kicking the woman through the door.

 

*******

 

Jane floated, a bubble-like laughter foaming deep within her chest, until it trickled out from her soft, perfectly painted lips.

After the humiliating process of having the length of her title compared to the famed ‘Hero of Ferelden’, and the grueling conversation of ‘oh, the General is _so_ daring! Her fashion style, isn’t it shocking?’ Jane was finally in her element.

Every duke, comté, Council of Heralds and other nobles of any note clamored to speak with her, praised her beauty, and fawned over her exotic dress.

Every one of importance wished to speak to her of an alliance, of mutually beneficial accord. Every other man hinted at wishing to marry her, just as she expected.

Jane danced with countless people, her legs never tiring, her feet floating as if she was made of air. Everyone hung on to her every word, tracked her every move. And Jane fluttered through the intrigues of the Court without a single misstep. She was born for this.

“M’accordez-vous cette danse, noble Dame?” An Orlesian question in a Free Marcher accent caught her attention, and she turned to find bright green eyes identical to hers grinning back at her. His perfectly waxed hair was swept back, revealing his handsome features as he leaned over and extended his hand.

“Of course, noble ser. I am honored to dance with you.” She smiled, always guarded but somewhat softer, placing her hand in his. The man led her back out onto the dance floor easily, steering her with ingrained movements. Soon they were whirling and swaying, the center of the attention at the sparkling Ball.

“It’s been forever, Ueuk. You look much better than the last time I saw you.” She smiled, leaning in close against his familiar chest. She hadn’t realized how badly she’d missed him.

“I was sick with the worst cold ever! Of course I look better now. Though that dreadful fever did end up saving my life from the explosion at the Conclave.” He chuckled deeply, his eyes kind and gentle.

“I missed you, brother.” She sighed, leaning in close and nuzzling her favorite sibling. He petted her head softly, careful not to mess up her elegant hairdo. He knew she hated it when he mussed her hair.

“I missed you too, little angel. You did well though. Father’s ecstatic about your new station of course.”

“I can imagine. Did he send you here? How’s everyone else doing?”

He nodded, continuing his gentle strokes over her cheeks as they spun and spun around the dance floor. She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes – it’d been too long since she’s been with him. Her protective brother who always looked out for her at the Ostwick Circle. He was always on her side, spoiling her rotten. She always wondered if she would have survived the Circle without him.

“The biggest change since you last saw us is that Hae is now vying to become the next Divine, and Ryung is fully supporting her.”

“Those two are actually working together?” She laughed, unable to picture her two elder sisters agreeing on anything.

“Amazing, I know. But Ryung knows she has no chance at becoming the next Divine. She’s too young. And there are worse things than having your sister on the Sunburst Throne.”

“Maybe I should put in a word for Hae’s claim then. It’s only fitting that the sister of Andraste’s Herald becomes the next Divine, right? But thank the Maker nobody else was caught in the explosion at the Conclave. I’m truly thankful you weren’t there – it was horrendous.” She shuddered involuntarily at the memories. The burning corpses, the green sky full of black smoke.

“It was a miracle that none of our immediate family members were caught in that blast considering how deeply we are associated with the Chantry. I was out sick, and our two elder sisters were lucky enough to be far away at the time. And Geun of course was with me at father’s estate since he is the precious heir.”

“Maker watches over his children, and protects the Faithful from harm.” She murmured, closing her eyes.

“But we did lose a lot of other people, angel. Our aunts, uncles, cousins, many extended families. I’ve been busy since the Conclave attending countless funerals for them. It’s the only reason I wasn’t exposed to the red lyrium you eventually warned me about. But enough of such talk. My baby sister, now Herald of Andraste, and the Inquisitor to boot! You’ve done us proud.”

“It is somewhat surreal still. I’m the Inquisitor; it’s more than what I’ve ever dreamed possible. Everything’s so perfect. Except for that Warden. She ruins it all.” She pouted, puckering her lips.

Ueuk raised his brows at her, turning his head slightly to look at the black haired mage also centered at another group of nobles.

“The Hero of Ferelden?”

“She’s despicable. She undermines my authority at my own keep. She takes all I have to gain, and yet the alliance with her gives so much support for my Inquisition that I cannot kick her out. It is maddening. I want her dead.”

“Why haven’t you eliminated her?” He quirked his brows, uncomprehending.

“I tried! Maker knows I’ve tried, Ueuk! I did everything I could possibly think of. I even went against father’s teachings and poisoned her directly! But nothing seems to faze that bitch, and most of the time she’s protected by that knife-ear and a stupid dog. It seems that she didn’t survive the archdemon by simple luck.”

They glided around the dance floor, Ueuk maneuvering them cleverly so that he could observe the spiteful Warden without drawing attention to himself.

“I could help.” He murmured, his eyes focused on to the woman chattering and giggling with a group of nobles. “I will always help my little angel. I’ll take care of her, don’t you worry your pretty head.”

“Tonight?”

“No, too many pairs of eyes are on us here. But I could come to Skyhold in a few days, maybe even bring Ryung with me. Between the two or three of us, I’m sure we could dispatch her easily. She will be nothing but a distant memory.”

Jane twirled around perfectly, arching back before spinning back into her wonderful brother’s arms.

“Would father allow it?”

“I’m certain he would. After all, the more powerful you grow the better it is for us Trevelyans. Even if he didn’t, I could just sneak off. It’s for my little angel! Father would understand.”

“Alright. Then come to Skyhold as soon as you are able to, Ueuk. I will have my Commander extend you a formal invitation to join us if you want, oh valiant Knight-Captain of Ostwick Circle.” She giggled as he spun her once again in time with music.

“Let me consider after observing the army once I’m there. I saw you ogling him earlier tonight, little Jane. Do you intend to marry him?” He quirked his brow suggestively, an amused smile playing by his lips.

“He holds no titles outside of the Inquisition, brother.”

“Oh, nothing serious then. It’s probably for the best. Father is already working through some marriage proposals he’s received for you.”

“He’s got them too? I’ve received a mountain-load of marriage proposals as well. My ambassador worked through most of them, tossing the ridiculous ones. But there are some truly promising ones.”

Her brother chuckled as he lifted her into the air just as the song ended.

“Send them all over to father. He will match you with the best man available. He’d all but given up on ever marrying you off since you went to the Circle, but now he is as happy as he could ever be.”

Ueuk lowered her slowly, planting a soft kiss on her hand and smiling gently before leading her off the dance floor carefully.

“I’ll let you mingle some more with these nobles. Do what you were taught to do, pretty angel. I’ll be about, helping you quietly.”

“Of course, brother. I’ll see you soon.”

She watched him go with a happy heart, almost failing to notice the Grand Duchess who stepped delicately over to her.

“Inquisitor Trevelyan? We met briefly. I am Grand Duchess Florianne de Chalons. Welcome to my party.” The Grand Duchess curtseyed perfectly, and Jane turned around to greet the older woman properly. Finally! The Grand Duchess. Jane was all too happy to return her curtsey.

“Je suis enchantée de faire votre connaissance.” Jane curtseyed, getting the pronunciations perfectly right. It’d been years since she was taught the Orlesian language back at her father’s estate before the hateful magic surfaced, but she spoke the language fluently.

“You speak Orlesian, Your Worship?” The woman widened her eyes, and Jane swallowed the smug grin.

“Only few pleasantries, I am afraid. How may I help you, Your Grace?”

“I believe tonight you and I are both concerned by the actions of… a certain person. Perhaps a few people, even. Come, dance with me. Spies will not hear us on the dance floor.”

“Very well. Shall we dance, Your Grace?” Jane smiled, knowing every pair of eyes were trained upon her at this moment. She reveled in the attention.

“I’d be delighted.”

Soon they were stepping back onto the dance floor, their whispered words mysteriously shrouded by the pleasant music, keeping the onlookers from overhearing anything critical, and yet allowing them all to know that the Inquisitor was speaking to the Grand Duchess.

“It took great effort to arrange tonight’s negotiations. Yet one party would use this occasion for blackest treason. The security of the empire is at stake. Neither one of us wishes to see it fall.”

They both bowed towards each other, though Jane knew the Game far too well to fall for her traps.

“Do we both want that, Lady Florianne?” She smiled sweetly, knowing her trained eyes betrayed nothing.

“I hope we are of one mind on this.” The Grand Duchess continued, surprising her with her forwardness. Would a woman versed so well in the Game be so blunt?

“In times like these, it’s hard to tell friend from foe, is it not, Your Grace?”

“Sadly, that is far too real in this troubled age.” The woman sighed wistfully as they stepped in time with the music. “I know you arrived here as a guest of my brother, Gaspard. And I also know the Inquisition is allied with the Grey Wardens. Have you noticed that the First Warden has been everywhere in the palace tonight?”

At that, Jane couldn’t help but flash her eyes to the mage off the dance floor. Sure enough, the woman was quietly sneaking out of the Ballroom, her eyes darting quickly as she made her silent exit.

“She is a curiosity to many, Inquisitor… and a matter of concern to some. I imagine she is of both for you, though perhaps a little more of the latter.”

She gritted her teeth, annoyance bursting through at the Grand Duchess’ words.

“This evening is of great importance, Inquisitor Trevelyan. I wonder what role you two will play in it. It cannot have escaped your notice that certain parties are engaged in dangerous machinations tonight, including your ally. And yet here you are, while she disappears quietly like a breath of wind.”

“I thought ‘dangerous machinations’ were the national sport in Orlais, Your Grace.” She whispered, just barely managing to reign in her anger as she dipped the Grand Duchess.

“Of course, Inquisitor. I was merely pointing her out in case you were unaware of her mysterious plans for the night. Do enjoy the rest of the party, Your Worship.”

They bowed to each other, the soft music coming to an end as if the whole conversation had been timed.

“We’ll see what the night has in store, won’t we Your Grace?” She smiled as she walked off the dance floor.

Jane eyed the direction the Warden has disappeared off to, waiting for a couple minutes until the Court returned to ambling about, their attention briefly distracted from herself. Taking advantage of those few incredible seconds, Jane snuck out of the Ballroom as well, chasing after the Warden.

Whatever she was planning to do that night, the Warden hadn’t bothered to share her plans with Jane. Which meant that the Warden was most likely doing something to cement her power here in the Winter Palace. Jane was sick and tired of her scheming; there was no way she was going to let that woman steal any more of the power from her. At least not tonight. Not while she was at the Halamshiral Ball.

She hurried along the darkened corridors, chasing the ghost of the First Warden.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Version. Here is the [link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4163601/chapters/27441195) for the remastered Second Chance for Him story.

She walks through the glittering palace, through the shiny bright lights, the sparkling gems, the brilliant smiles, and the gilded masks.

She hates it all.

“My Warden, are you alright?” Zevran’s quiet murmur floats to her ears, and she tilts her head, a barely perceptible nod. No one would know she was responding to a question, except for her Zev.

His sharp eyes sweep across her features, and she watches his eyes narrow slightly. He is not fooled by her mask as most others are. He knows her well – often knowing her own emotions well before her. But just this once, he is confused. He doesn’t understand her, though he knows something is wrong. And she doesn’t know if she is thankful for that or not.

She can’t quite put a finger on it herself.

Zevran and Leliana’s coached her well on dealing with various court intrigues over the years. She’s learned the intricate steps of the deadly dance the nobles waltz. She’s practically the Queen of Ferelden, rules the Ferelden Court with Alistair. She’s spent months in the Antivan Court. The Orlesian Court is not so different from them – and yet, there’s a chilling dread sitting heavily in her gut.

Another noble chatters away, his grinning smile as fake as her own plastered one. Her eyes roam over the shining Court, looking, searching for him.

He is there by the corner, surrounded by a group of fluffy nobles just the same as she is. Her eyes seek out his, and eventually their gazes lock.

His sharp look pierces through her, and she knows that he feels it too, sees the fake grin plastered onto her lips. And in her eyes, she knows he can see the cold terror that is gnawing on her nerves. She sees that same terror lurking in his golden eyes as well.

But there’s more. With sinking dread she realizes that there is more in his eyes.

There’s terror – yes – but in his eyes she sees the ghosts of that day prowling in their minds. The demons that screech their horrible curses, the blood mages that cackle and sneer as they slice their own veins, thick spurts of blood gushing forth. The rotting flesh of their precious dead friends molding into grotesque monsters that grin at them with their stone-dead eyes.

And she knows she is not allowed to touch him, not allowed to speak to him. All she can do, all he can do, is watch another. They speak silently with their eyes, their stilled lips never fluttering.

 _Are you alright?_ She asks him, her eyes shining like they did a decade ago.

_No. Are you?_

_No._

It is the Kinloch Hold.

“Pardonnez-moi, monsieur.” She smiles and giggles behind her fan, before stepping lightly away from the chatting nobleman. Icy claws dig in deep into her trembling limbs, and she shivers.

Perhaps it’s the presence of known assassins. Or perhaps it’s the presence of _him_ , trapped like he was back then. Or perhaps, it’s her response to his harrowing distress.

She walks the dark, chilly halls of the Kinloch Hold tonight.

She hears the dead echoes of her footsteps ringing out in the blood-spattered tower.

But her ridiculous heeled boots click clakety clack against the smooth marble floors of the Winter Palace.

Her footsteps ring hollow in the tower full of her dead howling friends.

She smiles.

“What a pleasant evening, noble Dame.” Another noble latches on like a sloth demon.

“Truly wondrous night, monsieur. Have you tried the frilly cakes?” She lets out another giggle, distracting him and walking away.

The ghosts of the dead cackle.

The nightmares never go away.

“Oh mademoiselle, charmed to make your acquaintance.”

“Indeed, madame. A pleasure.”

She brushes past, seeing the skeletons lying over the gilded masks _._

The shining walls of the palace are bleeding, or is that her mind playing tricks?

“Puis-je avoir un peu de votre temps, noble Dame?”

“Un instant je vous prie, monsieur.” She giggles, her long fingers waving.

The scar on her right hand throbs. It aches, and she can feel the ghosting pain of the electric sizzle that burns up her arm.

She smiles.

It is the Kinloch Hold.

* * *

It’s a Ball.

He forces a breath through his nose, teeth clenched and jaw set. It’s. A. Ball.

“Are you married, Commandant Cullen?”

A noblewoman prattles on, one among the many.

“No, my lady.”

“Wonderful, so you’re still single then.”

“I am… already taken.” He bites out.

“I am sure our children would look lovely,”

It’s. A. Fucking. Ball.

His hands fist and relax over and over again, and it takes all of his fraying willpower, all of his tightly wound control not to grasp at the thin air where his pommel usually hangs. He feels the tenuous hold over his deranged wrath fracturing with every word these nobles utter.

It’s. A. Ball.

Someone brushes up against his shoulder, her smile glittering. Another hand grasps at his buttocks, his chuckle grating, and it’s all he can do not to snarl like a demented beast, an enraged monster.

It’s. A. Ball.

His eyes lock up for a moment with hers, who is also surrounded by her own small group of nobles. She has that steel-mask lying over her soft features, a fake smile plastered over those sincere lips. Her strained smiles bleed into his heart.

“You must dance with me, Commander! You cannot stand about all evening.”’

“I’m afraid not, thank you.”

Their gazes linger on each other for a moment longer.

 _Are you alright?_ She asks him quietly, the way she used to a decade ago in the Circle.

 _No. Are you?_ He already knows the answer, though he asks anyway.

_No._

Then they are wrenched back into this whirling madness.

It’s. A. Ball.

So why does he feel like a caged beast, a haunted prey? Why are all his nerves screaming at him to run, to fight? To slaughter all that he sees? Why is there cold terror tearing at his gut?

Why does he see the ghosts of the dead lingering over her sparkling eyes?

“Come, dance with me Commandant.”

“I apologize, my lady.” He just barely stops himself from hissing.

The tall suffocating walls of the palace press down on him.

The nobles’ gilded mask twists, turns, morphs into the mocking smiles of the desire demons.

It’s. A. Ball.

He howls inside his head. It’s a Ball. It’s a Ball. It’s a Ball. He chants the words like a ward against the nightmares. It’s a prayer he sends to the Maker, a reminder, a fact, a dream.

He hears the _plop plop plop_ of the blood droplets dripping onto the floor. When he cut off Farris’ head with his sword, the blood had pooled.

His friend’s face splashes into his own pool of blood, and _plop plop plop_ it goes, the blood dripping down his sword.

The blood-soaked face grins up at him. “You can’t escape,” it whispers. Then it cackles maddeningly.

His teeth ache from biting down so hard.

It’s not a Ball.

It is the Kinloch Hold.

And she is here. As always, she is here.

The nobles that surround him no longer wear the fluffy plumage of silk, feathers, and velvet. Instead it is the bright flames of the rage demons, the shimmering silken scales and skins of desire demons, the bright confusing magical sparks that surround the arcane horrors.

He’s frozen, trapped in the magical cage.

Or is it? Is it a magical cage?

No, it’s the ridiculous Orlesian social rules. It’s something silly, something he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about. It’s not that electric force field that withstands his desperate Smites.

It’s a cage. The lyrium-infused blood is slick on his hands.

Is there blood? There’s always blood on his hands. The dead howls its hollow screams.

His sword is gone. No, it’s there, thrown over Farris’ body, crusted over with his friend’s blood.

The demons press closer against him, their laughter brushing against his skin, their ghosting touches leaving sizzling pain in its wake. And once again, he is helpless in their grasp. They gleefully torment him, knowing he is helpless.

His blood boils in his veins.

The dead cackles here tonight.

It is the Kinloch Hold.

* * *

She steps, spins, whirls until the bright masked eyes lose track of her. She hides amongst the brightly colored fabrics, the jeweled nobles around her hiding her from view. Her simplistic military clothes are easily lost in the Ball, as intended.

She turns, fades away into the dark corners like a wisp just the way Zev has taught her. She watches from the shadows. The maddening cackles, the screeching laughter, it’s so different from the cold silent tower of Kinloch Hold.

“He’s hurting.” Cole’s voice echoes quietly around her.

And yet it is the Kinloch Hold. And there are so many people she needs to kill, so many she needs to slaughter, and she doesn’t remember why. She just knows that she must kill.

“You’re hurting too.” The spirit boy’s words hang still in the air.

The ghosting laughter lingers around her like a rotting stench that she can never wash away. Or is that because the tower is full of stale air with decomposing corpses?

“You two are angry.”

The decaying walls of Kinloch Hold crumble around her, and yet stands strong. It bleeds, gore painted across every inch of the grey stones. It’s Uldred’s innards, the same ones she’d ripped out of his open stomach and hung like a trophy over the tower.

“You two share the same hurt, the same pain. It looks like a tower. I’ve never seen that before.”

Weren’t there people she was supposed to kill?

The all-too-familiar metallic twinge of scent tickles her nose, and she knows there are dead people about. Oh, she’s too late.

Her knees brush against the tall garden grass as she bends down to examine the crimson carcasses. But there was no grass in the Kinloch Hold.

“Well that’s just typical, isn’t it?” Her Zev remarks dryly, and she wonders why he is here. He was never at the Kinloch Hold. But she is glad he is here, with his dry remarks.

Her party soon moves on, explores the Grand Library, the servants’ quarters, and the Grand Apartments. She finds so many dead, and finds so many Tevinters to kill. Blood splatters onto the floor, onto the walls, it spurts, thick and red, drenches everything in sight.

She walks the cold dark halls of the Kinloch Hold.

“Black tower, corrupted flesh, demons. It used to be safe here. Warm. Home. Smells like fire, old. But they took it all away. They took it all. Even you.”

But there are people here, who weren’t there in the Kinloch Hold. And her companions are missing. It’s all wrong. Where did Alistair go? Wynne, and Leliana? Zevran is here, and so is Garrett, Iron Bull, and Dorian, and it’s all mixed up, all twisted, all broken. But she doesn’t mention it – just moves on and kills repeatedly.

“You two should not be here. It’s hurting. It’s the same pain.”

“Don’t get blood on your clothes!” Garrett grins cheerfully to her side, and she smiles back, her grin twisting grotesquely on her face. She winces inwardly.

And then there are more Tevinters. She kills them. They are easy to slaughter. Like pigs almost. Zev looks almost bored as he angles his daggers just right to keep their blood from spurting all over his leather clothes.

Except, this time there’s something wrong.

“It’s the Inquisitor!” Dorian shouts and she snaps her head up, finally shocked out of her daze. Indeed, it’s Jane Trevelyan screaming and kicking as two brutes tower over her, about to strike her down in a ridiculous white ball gown. And she’s too close to the brutes for her to attack magically.

_Shit._

“Inquisitor, duck!”

She holds her new staff like a spear, eternally grateful she prefers the ones with staff blade on the edge. Solona Fade Steps, blurs forward at a dizzying speed and skewers one of the brutes with her staff. The momentum from her speed makes the man’s skull collapse with a sickening crunch and Jane scrambles back hastily, sobbing.

She doesn’t stop. With that same momentum she spins, kicks out at the sniveling redhead and sends her tumbling across the grass field. The other brute’s axe smashes down into the dirt where the woman’s silly ball gown was a moment ago.

Then the brute grabs her, lifts Solona high into the air. His crushing grasp bruises her ribs and she struggles to keep her wits about her.

The Inquisitor just cowers behind the man, sobbing.

“Manaveris Corypheus!” _Long live Corypheus_. The brute roars, squeezing her tighter and she coughs, her vision wavers.

“Die in the Void, bastard.” She wheezes out, stuffs her free hand down the man’s throat. His teeth scrapes painfully against her fist. The brute widens his eyes in surprise in a split second before her electric shock rips through him, shatters him from the inside. His flesh is torn apart, his pulverized limbs explode spectacularly.

She drops to the ground with a pained grunt, knows her skin and clothes are shredded from the bone fragments from the meat bomb that’s slashed past her. She groans and coughs, wheezes as air returns to her lungs.

“Sol!” Garrett shouts at her, though he is preoccupied with another brute. Zevran comes rushing towards her. He gently gathers her up, though he carefully avoids all the blood and gore. She weakly wipes away at her face, looks down to see ample brain matter splattered all over her fingers.

And she was doing so well at keeping her clothes clean too.

“Is the Inquisitor alright?” She pants, her maimed arm drops limply.

“She is, my Warden.” Zev answers for her, and she sighs.

“I need healing. And new clothes. Inquisitor, if you don’t mind returning to the Ballroom alone? Do you think you can manage?”

The woman whimpers and trembles.

“Zev, would you mind taking her back? I am going to stay here, finish these Tevinters off and try to heal myself. I’ll be right behind you. Tell Leliana I need some new clothes.”

“Of course, mi amor.” He kisses her hair, unperturbed by bits of human flesh splattered all over her. “I shall see you back inside, yes?”

“Yes.”

And he is gone. And thankfully, so is that redheaded woman.

She groans and stands up, realizes that it’s the right arm that was constantly throbbing the entire night that’s been mangled by being shoved down someone’s mouth. The familiar scent of cooked flesh wafts about.

Kinloch Hold.

She grunts, making a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. She really needs to stop getting her arm so damaged at Kinloch Hold. At least this time it wasn’t her who was burned.


End file.
